‘The Alto Knights’: Double the Fun, De Niro Drives it Home

Older Americans who enjoyed the early TV show The Untouchables know something of the legend of agent Eliot Ness who FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover empowered to bring down notorious Prohibition-era gangsters like Al Capone, Frank Nitti, Lucky Luciano, Dutch Schultz, Legs Diamond, and Bugs Moran. Indeed, “The Untouchables,” in its four years and 118 episodes gave us a sweeping history of the crime syndicates that seemingly pervaded every sector of American industry. Except the show was mostly fictitious; great liberties were afforded Desilu Productions to create a weekly crime story. Now, however, on movie screens opening March 21, The Alto Knights, starring Robert De Niro as both Frank Costello and his longtime friend (and later nemesis) Vito Genovese, promises us a true history of New York’s mafia.

Written by Nicholas Pileggi (Goodfellas, Casino) and directed by Barry Levinson (The Natural, Rain Man, Wag The Dog) is riveting, suspenseful and—bereft of brutal, gory crime scenes—cleverly character-driven. This is the story (based on true events, we are told) longtime mob boss Frank Costello tells of his early and interdependent friendship with a street thug who returns to the city to reclaim his territory. Vito Genovese, once a true partner in crime, has returned from a decade of “running the numbers” in Italy and wants fair equity in Costello’s crime family. Genovese’s scheme doesn’t play out well, nor does Costello manage his friend’s rash ambition. 

Several film elements make The Alto Knights shine on screen. First, of course, is De Niro. He plays both lead characters. And while there can be no doubt of his acting talent, scenes in which Costello and Genovese have face to face conversations seated beside each other in, say a restaurant or candy shop, beg intense focus. That is, from the famous actor as well as the audience. Sure, Levinson employs two cameras for typical over-the-shoulder editing of one character addressing the other, intercut with appropriate focus on who is speaking to whom. But Levinson lets us see them speaking side by side. One actor, two characters and no apparent split-screen. Ah, the magic of digital editing. It’s really riveting.

But Levinson does not stop there. To capture the era of big bands and speakeasies, of televised senate committee hearings, of legendary moments in baseball history, of young starlets on the silver screen, he recreates a nearly three-dimensional perspective from faded vintage film clips. Lou Gehrig, nor Benny Goodman, ever swung so hard. The digital effect here is not so much to impress cinematography geeks as to proffer a contemporary relevance to the “news” that was then actual news.

Of course, audiences expecting scenes of vicious murder, of gangland shoot-outs, of sociopathic mobsters stopping at nothing to get what they’re owed, will not be disappointed. They may not, however, feel fully sated. That’s not where Pileggi or Levinson want to take us. Their aim is far more poignant.  

Of all that is historically relevant in The Alto Knights, none seems more so than the characters of Costello and Genovese. The great fortune of the film is to learn what drove men like these to risk death on a seemingly daily basis. Yet, this isn’t a story of one-upmanship, of revenge (although there is some cold dessert served here), of outsmarting the cops or playing the politicians (because we are assured there was plenty of that); this is a visual history of a world (albeit, centered in NYC) in which men survived by loyalty. 

It’s also a very rich history of family––both of the nuclear and notorious kind––and the inherent necessity for security as well as success. Debra Messing plays a key role as Costello’s grounded spouse, Bobbie, affirming for him that family—related by blood, whether shared or shed—comes first. And through this family structure we get to understand the laws by which it operates and crumbles. Those laws, without citing specific relevance, are most certainly in play still today. In many ways, they seem to be untouchable. Coincidentally enough, the film’s title The Alto Knights refers to a once famous social club in lower Manhattan whose admittance and membership required absolute loyalty.  Ah, the magic of history. It may not repeat itself, say the pundits, but it sure often rhymes. Here it’s real and riveting, too.

Photos courtesy of Warner Brothers. Copyright: © 2025 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All Rights Reserved.

C. Prentiss Orr is a Pittsburgh-based writer who covers film, live theater, and other topics for Entertainment Central. He is the author of the books The Surveyor and the Silversmith and Pittsburgh Born, Pittsburgh Bred.

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