If you’re on a break from repeat viewings of the Martin Scorsese mainstays “Goodfellas,” “Casino” and “The Irishman” but you’re still up for a 20th-century crime saga, along comes the MGM+ series “The Westies” to fit the bill. This plays like a well-crafted, B-movie version of Scorsese—elevated by electric performances from a stellar cast led by J.K. Simmons and Titus Welliver.
That might sound like a backhanded compliment, but there’s no disrespect intended. Given the challenges of a Toronto location shoot for a series set in 1980s Manhattan, this is an impressively mounted production. The gas-guzzling cars, period-piece fashions and smoke-filled rooms help capture the era, and the sharp writing, blood-spattered action and kinetic performances keep us hooked throughout. (We also get a terrific noir-style, motion-comic opening credits sequence, set to the Dropkick Murphys’ “Dropped on My Head.”)
“The Westies” was the name law enforcement and the press gave to a notorious Irish-American crime gang operating in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan from the mid-1960s through the 1980s. Though the Westies never had more than 20 members and were outnumbered at least 50-1 by the Five Families of the Italian Mafia, they were a dangerous force— “chaotic crime” to the mob’s “organized crime,” if you will. (For an excellent feature film treatment of the Westies gang, check out 1990’s “State of Grace,” starring Sean Penn, Ed Harris, Robin Wright and Gary Oldman.)
Simmons commands every scene he’s in as Eamon Sweeney, the de facto godfather of the neighborhood, who has carved out a meaty slice of the financial windfall from the construction of the Jacob Javits Convention Center on the Westies’ home turf in Hell’s Kitchen. Sweeney, like most of the main characters here, save for a few exceptions (e.g., Hamish Allan-Headley’s John Gotti), is a fictional composite inspired by real-life figures. Sweeney’s a nattily attired, outwardly avuncular sort who receives community leadership awards and is prone to giving speeches about the importance of the neighborhood at wakes and funerals—even when he’s the one responsible for the body in the casket. He’s the kind of guy who is scary enough when he raises his voice, but absolutely terrifying when he speaks in a measured, calculated tone.
Tom Brittney carries a star presence in a showcase role as Jimmy Roarke, a charismatic, natural leader who considers Sweeney a father figure, with Stanley Morgan doing equally powerful work as Jimmy’s best friend Mickey Flanagan, a Vietnam veteran coping with PTSD and struggling to keep his violent impulses at bay. Sarah Bolger shines as Jimmy’s girlfriend, Bridget, an IRA operative who is drawn back into the fight by her former boyfriend and fellow IRA member, Brendan Cahill (Allen Leech). It’s almost comical how Bridget is forever warning Jimmy to be careful and not to get himself killed, even as he’s warning HER to be careful and not get herself killed. Let’s just say these two don’t have much time to go to the movies or a Yankees game. One of them always seems to be returning home after a long day/night and telling the other not to ask where they’ve been or what they’ve been doing.
One of the strengths of “The Westies” is how it never feels like filler or a detour when we dive into the richly developed tributary stories. Titus Welliver does masterful work as Glenn Keenan, a compromised NYPD cop who tries to navigate both sides of the streets in Hell’s Kitchen, usually to violent and tragic effect. Like many a character here, Keenan often tries to find some measure of solace by crawling inside a bottle. (If you took a drink every time someone in “The Westies” says “Sláinte” and gulps a pint or downs a shot, you might well be dead by Episode 5.) The violence does become a bit repetitive and numbing; I lost count of how many times someone was kidnapped, tied up, beaten and threatened, even as they bellowed “F— you!” at their captors. Still, the series just keeps on adding compelling side characters, as when the invaluable Richard Schiff turns up as a high-end money launderer who is equal parts impressed and amused by Jimmy’s ambitions.
With the exception of Jessica Frances Duke’s FBI Special Agent Birdie Polk, virtually everyone in “The Westies” is a criminal—and most are killers. Still, we take a rooting interest in Jimmy and Bridget, among others, because they at least seem to have some kind of code of honor; they’re bad, but not as terrible as Sweeney or Gotti, who are evil and ruthless to the bone. It’s not as if new ground in the genre is being broken here, but “The Westies” executes familiar gangster-story tropes with style. No word yet on a possible second season, but the finale delivers satisfying closure while leaving the door open for further mayhem in Hell’s Kitchen.
All eight episodes were screened for review.
