Grainy horizontals of a television screen reveal  the familiar yet unfamiliarly youthful face of a man in the midst of starting a war against Cosa Nostra, better known as the Mafia, the Mob syndicate, consisting mainly of the Five Families of New York City.

Do most people understand the damage done to the mob during this period in the mid-late 1980's? Damage which due to the legal successes then, helps sustain the wounds inflicted upon the Mafia today.

The man in the archival footage, famed former Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, who at the time was U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York, had just begun one of the most effective Mafia busting plans ever. It involved using the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO), a bill drafted in 1970 by law professor Robert Blakey, which ultimately, put a damaging, if not damning, dent into mob influences and activities in New York City.

But in Find Me Guilty, we take a step back to those days gone by when Giacomo ‘Fat Jack’ ‘Jackie Dee’ DiNorscio broke a record that holds today. In 1987, his trial became the longest running Mafia trial in U.S. history.

Find Me Guilty is unlike any gangster film you will likely see in recent times as there is little bloodshed. The film is more courtroom drama than Mafia lifestyle exposé, and the story delves into an engrossing, if minor footnote in New York crime history.

DiNorscio (Vin Diesel in a huge departure with noteworthy results) is a low to mid-level Lieutenant in one of the five crime families, the New Jersey Lucchese family. When the film begins, DiNorscio is ritually shot four times by a man whom DiNorscio seemingly knows, asking him calmly, “Why are you doing this,” while throwing out a heartfelt, “I love you,” as he fades into unconsciousness.

The man who just shot DiNorscio turns out to be his own flesh and blood cousin and later to be - star prosecution witness.

Recuperating in the hospital, DiNorscio refuse to cooperate with indifferent Detectives. It’s the first revealing insight into DiNorscio’s unwavering belief in Omerta, the mafia code of silence. “You don’t rat on your friends.” It’s a common refrain heard from DiNorscio, one of the few tried and true believers in an ethic that appears both admirable and obtuse, since the code has been trampled in a tidal wave of nonbelievers. Another DiNorscio refrain is the steady and loud pronouncements of his love for his closest friends, “I love you guys!” and ‘You always back the ones you love’ - at any cost it appears.

Remember, at the time of DiNorscio’s arrest, the thousands of mafia tough guys who began turning federal Witness Protection Program members in the 1990s, had only just begun in earnest during this period.

Once convalesced, DiNorscio dives head first back into his life of crime, even forming a bit of a coke habit along the way. Fearless of a possible RICO indictment hanging over his head, too much coke and womanizing contributes to DiNorscio being caught in an undercover sting with a suitcase of cocaine. Nodding off in court, he’s swiftly sentenced to 30 years for the distribution charge.

Just as you would know it, the RICO charge has come to fruition eight years into his drug prison sentence. With this, the RICO case prosecutor summons DiNorscio to a little one-on-one. Or more like buttering up, in hope that DiNorscio will turn and testify against his boss and “friends of ours.”

The T-bone steak the D.A. offers up is not enough to entice the loyal DiNorscio, who refuses to turn against everything he believes in, in the first of many confrontations between the two men. After flatly turning down the deal, the fast tracking, mob-loathing, WASPish prosecutor Sean Kierney (Linus Roache), strikes back with the fury of a cobra, vowing to retain his undefeated courtroom status.

The trial begins earnestly, if not curiously, with 20 Lucchese members charged. It means 20 defendants, so 20 defense attorneys in a sign of things to come as the trial ends up exhibiting plenty of outlandish moments.

In the hands of Vin Diesel, DiNorscio takes on an interestingly amusing guise with his self-deprecating humor and paunchy look, a characterization which belies the little seen dark side of a man we know has it in him. Once the legalese battle begins, Kierney finds himself in serious jeopardy of losing the biggest case of his career if he doesn‘t reign in DiNorscio - by any means.

DiNorscio becomes a sneaky jester who deconstructs the prosecutor’s offensive attacks in unconventional ways. DiNorscio’s closing argument in particular becomes a near mythically unbelievably unorthodox and sincere performance, as DiNorscio says, “of the heart.”

Like many courtroom dramas there is the prosecutor’s and defense attorney’s dance back and forth convincing a jury. What makes Find Me Guilty so different is that DiNorscio, a man with a self-proclaimed sixth grade education, decides to serve as his own counsel in what turns out to be one of the more notorious of cases in New York judicial history. You know what they say about serving as your own counsel, right?

A recent courtroom drama that held one’s attention was Runaway Jury. Find Me Guilty is neither thrilling nor totally effective.

The thread holding our attention is personal interest in either the subject matter or this one-of-a-kind character DiNorscio. Without either, the film could possibly be an utter bore. I for one have been intrigued with mob history since the moment I first picked up the classic mob insider novel, “The Valachi Papers“.

What is uproariously entertaining is DiNorscio’s - “gagster not gangster” – near faultless courtroom performances. Well, almost perfect, unless you count: a $5,000 contempt of court charge, being threatened with disbarment even though he has no legal license, the constant butting of heads with the judge (composedly played by Lumet veteran Ron Silver), and the near declarations of mis-trial on several occasions. 

The pace might be called tepid, but for a legal drama, I found the pacing relatively brisk. The trial forces a jury to go through a then record-breaking 21 months of testimony, closing arguments, and the trials and tribulations as DiNorscio stumbles and triumphs in his lawyer capacity. The film commendably uses real life transcripts from the actual trial.  

DiNorscio surprisingly catches venom from all sides as his own boss, Nick Calabrese (Alex Rocco) swiftly tries to muzzle his courtroom antics by ostracizing DiNorscio and his genuinely sincere, “I love you guys!” proclamations to his fellow mobsters. A gang by the way which consists mainly of lifetime neighborhood friends, a fact used as a weapon by DiNorscio time and time again.

DiNorscio exudes self confidence throughout the turbulent times - as he simultaneously serves time in federal prison while attending court. Though we know and see manifestations of DiNorscio’s dark side, this side of the man is relatively kept in check and out of view. A nice cameo from Annabella Sciorra as DiNorscio’s feisty ex-wife adds variance to the events in a gritty, sweaty prison visit.

Because the feral DiNorscio dominates the proceedings, the onus or eliciting a 'not guilty’ verdict for the mobsters ultimately falls dangerously into his lap. Because of this, the only other defense lawyer who makes his indelible mark is the prickly tutorial presence of Ben Klandis (Peter Dinklage).

The film’s only minor back story and insight is the presence of a daughter and an ex-wife. Beyond the open, Lumet refuses to fall back on flashbacks so we get none of DiNorscio’s prior mob life beyond the earlier scenes. 

And even though we are in mob country, this is rather lighter fare than the twisted dark neuroses and political forays established in many Lumet works. Not that this film doesn’t contain elements of each. Understandably, some have questioned the morality of endorsing DiNorscio as hero. There is no endorsement of the lifestyle (and yes DiNorscio is probably romanticized, but never virtuous) nor a complete picture of the true life man.

The case and its proceedings are what clear the path to divulge who DiNorscio was. It’s an impressionistic burst seen through the eyes of the legal system, a portrait, but no entire canvas of the man.

A more bare, static visual approach, which is nothing out of the ordinary for Lumet’s low key style, is enhanced by the anamorphic driven compositions where long takes, longer lenses, and tight close ups are fitting. Lacking such extraneous visual overkill allows a concentration of the trial information and a capturing the moment at hand. Lumet’s use of tight close ups enlarges the scope of the primarily intimate story. All is benefited by a winning jazzy score enhancing linkage between scenes.

For Lumet, who after 50 nominations received the Lifetime Achievement at the 2005 Academy Awards, Find Me Guilty is his 30th of 43 films shot in NYC. It’s no City Hall but Lumet cinema is always appreciated. Especially for the mob historian buffs like myself. For every Roaring Twenties, we need this new era Find Me Guilty gangster world.

It’s a world in which the lifestyle’s violent realities have transformed into our flaccidly tepid judicial retribution, where mountains of wiretap send mob kingpins to fade lonely and quietly away in the sad recesses of penitentiary infirmaries during their golden age.

© Julian Boyance, completed April 10, 2006