Crime stories tend to appeal to a rather seedy part of the
human fascination. Something about tales of men who took their own piece of the
world by force, obeying no law other than their own, is somewhat appealing in a
morbid way. As a result of this, although crime dramas can result in highly
potent storytelling, there needs to be an understanding of the moral ambiguity
of the subject and their actions. An acknowledgement that, no matter how
squeaky-clean they may have appeared as people to whom family meant everything,
they are still criminals. This film, a biopic on legendary underworld figure
John Gotti, made with the blessing of Gotti Jr. himself, fucks that up worse
than any other crime flick I’ve sat through.