In the cinematic world of mob films, the go-to filmmaker for U.S. audiences is likely Martin Scorsese (Goodfellas; Casino). With tales exciting and dramatic, he’s told stories that unengaged audiences will see as uplifting the morally grey areas of the mob world, while those who pay close attention understand them to be morality stories from which there are too few heroes. In his most recent, the 2019 release The Irishman, an adaptation of the novel I Heard You Paint Houses by Charles Brandt, Scorsese teamed up with Robert De Niro (Taxi Driver) again in a multi-decade tale of murder and political intrigue. While the film rightfully earned many accolades, it also had derision heaped upon it for casting Anna Paquin (X-Men) as the older version of De Niro’s central character Frank’s daughter Peggy and not giving her a line a dialogue. The point, honestly, is that her silence is deafening and specific. Flipping things around in her directorial debut, writer/actor Jennifer Esposito (Blue Bloods; The Boys) tells a multi-year tale in which the women in the family take center stage as they each grapple with the fallout of each choice the men in their lives make. Originally released in select theaters in June, Esposito’s Fresh Kills is available to screen via VOD and digital and it’s not to be missed as this slow burn tale explodes into total heartbreak, gifting audiences with a new mob tale to add to their collection.
L-R: Odessa A’zion as Connie, Jennifer Esposito as Francine, Annabella Sciorra as Christine, and Emily Bader as Rose in FRESH KILLS. Photo courtesy of Fresh Kills Production/Quiver Distribution.
Recently moved to Staten Island from Brooklyn, sisters Connie and Rose (Taylor Hand and Anastasia Veronica Lee) are troubled by the lack of friends, the need to start over, and, of course, the stench coming off the nearby Fresh Kills Landfill. They do their best to acclimate, especially as their father, Joe (Domenick Lombardozzi), travels frequently for work, leaving them in the care of their mother, Francine (Esposito), who doesn’t do so well with being on her own. As the girls age, Connie and Rose (Odessa A’Zion and Emily Bader) have their closeness tested as the reality of who their father is and what he does comes to bear.
L-R: Emily Bader as Rose and Jennifer Esposito as Francine in FRESH KILLS. Photo courtesy of Fresh Kills Production/Quiver Distribution.
Esposito’s been a working actor for more than two decades and, in all of that time, this is the first film she’s written and directed. In the press notes for the film, Esposito states, “[g]rowing up in Staten Island, I was constantly obsessed with the question of WHY? WHY were the women, especially the young women, around me so violently angry?” This is the perspective and way in to Fresh Kills, a title that speaks to the inherent violence of mafia life while being grounded in a specific location that is, itself, actively rotting. In the film, shortly after it’s revealed that the family is moving into a new home away from New York City and that they can smell the dump, the mentions of the smell go away after some time. In reality, this is likely due to nose blindness, having gotten used to the regular amounts of stench the turgid decomp from the landfill wafts over; however, from a subtextual perspective, it ties nicely into the notion that these women are well-aware, whether they talk about it or not, of the odious cloud that follows them as a result of Joe. It’s amazing what one can get used to when we’re told it’s “for the family” or caused by someone we care for. The “normal” for a normie versus someone in the mafia world is quite different — the expectations, the important need to keep confidences, almost as important as not asking questions so as not to confirm suspicions.
This is where the specific perspective that Esposito employs becomes so important in understanding the stakes of Fresh Kills. In most mafia stories, the women are seen, sometimes heard, but nearly always are secondary or tertiary characters to the drugs, money, and murder that can make up so much of the plot. Here, Esposito brings the behind-the-scenes to the stage, exploring the hidden costs of being in the life without having any agency to make any of the decisions which impact you. For this, Esposito creates four characters to represent different aspects of this struggle: Francine, Connie, Rose, and Christine (Annabella Sciorra). Christine and Francine are sisters, so, at first, the presumption is that the two are close like Connie and Rose with the move a hindrance to their time together. That is, until tragedy strikes and Christine has more reason to come visit in order to maintain a sense of normalcy and familial support. Sciorra (Cop Land; What Dreams May Come) plays Christine as being as aware of things as her sister, yet happier, as though she possesses freedom to move between cities and, therefore, to go anywhere. Sciorra doesn’t play Christine as flighty nor flaunting, yet there is a sense of lightness to the character compared to her sister. In contrast, Esposito (He Got Game) plays Francine as the type of mother who proclaims giving their children “roots and wings,” while scolding them with biting words and turns of phrases that reveal proverbial anchors around their ankles. Francine desires to be the best friend to her children, to have them skip school to stay with her, to idolize and mimic her, but without any of the rebelliousness Francine herself once possessed. In this way, Esposito transforms Francine into a tragic figure whose inability to escape this life makes her bitter toward anyone who might have a shot, despite any love that clearly resides in her heart. The juxtaposition of the two characters, sisters Christine and Francine, correlates beautifully to Connie and Rose, who undergo a similar yet different arc.
L-R: Odessa A’zion as Connie and Emily Bader as Rose in FRESH KILLS. Photo courtesy of Fresh Kills Production/Quiver Distribution.
These two are the primary characters, their relationship exactly what Esposito as storyteller wants the audience to invest in the most. Even if Rose is the central protagonist, the first character we meet in the film, already in dire straits, with the first smash cut from in-film-present to in-film-past, Esposito makes it clear that the beating heart of the film is the relationship between these two sisters. They are each other’s best friends, the ones for whom all else in their life is built. As presented by Esposito, this is more easily done when the girls are young, but as they reach driving (and marrying) age, that closeness gets more easily challenged and shaken. As teen/adult Connie, A’Zion (Am I Ok?) conveys a character who represents knowledge and acceptance, the most like Joe, willing to get her hands dirty despite constantly being shifted toward what is “appropriate” for women. She’s loyal to her family and little else, which would be considered typical for a male counterpart yet is viewed by others as uncouth. Like her mother, Connie embraces the life she’s been given and holds desperately to that whom she loves, but she doesn’t run or hide (avoidance behavior or medication) from who Joe is. In contrast, Rose is perpetually processing and desperate to get away. Esposito perfectly cast Lee (Over/Under) and Bader (My Lady Jane) as young/older Rose as both actors do so much with facial expressions and eye acting to communicate the overwhelming nature of their lives. As older Rose, Bader bears the brunt of responsibility to carry Rose’s journey, seemingly swallowing so much in an attempt to keep the peace, whether it’s the boy who loves her, the mother whom she dares not disappoint, or the sister who is the only one she’d get bloody for. This isn’t just a euphemism as it takes Rose being the only one aware of Connie being in danger for her to start throwing hands, a choice that would be used by a lesser storyteller or actor to start a downward spiral, to lose the plot to cinematic action, when it’s instead treated as a pivotal moment that cements the bond between the sisters, one that will be significant later in ways that will shock and destroy the audience. In each moment, Bader brings the audience in, her seemingly quiet response to each ill word or deed mistakenly taken as weakness, until the actor brings it all out, laying waste to those in her vicinity.
Emily Bader as Rose in FRESH KILLS. Photo courtesy of Fresh Kills Production/Quiver Distribution.
If you come to Fresh Kills expecting the same mafia story, you will be disappointed. By eschewing the rote, Esposito creates an opportunity to explore the well-worn crime subgenre from a perspective often left to the sidelines. Where Paquin’s Peggy as a silent character was misunderstood in its reading, Esposito makes sure to dig into characters like Peggy, to bring them forward so that they stop being set dressing, stop being servants to their male counterparts, and dive into the repercussions of actions that cannot be justified no matter how many times “family” is mentioned. For this, one is willing to forgive things like perfectly used songs by artists not of the period or mentions of time having passed that don’t add up, when everything else (from the script to the production and costuming to the performances) is so specifically dialed in. Esposito gives a voice to the voiceless or quieted characters with the kind of rapturous bombast that will knock you on your ass.
In theaters June 14th, 2024.
Available on VOD and digital July 23rd, 2024.
For more information, head either to the official Fresh Kills website or Quiver Distribution webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: Films To Watch, Recommendation, Reviews, streaming
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