Living the American Dream | War Dogs (2016)

Packouz (left) and Diveroli (center) driving Berettas through Falllujah.

Dir. Todd Phillips

Jonah Hill and Miles Teller star as a 20-something international arms traffickers in this stunning film, based on a true story, that demonstrates how reality is often more gripping than fiction.

            War Dogs, a term that refers to the bottom feeders in the high stakes world of arms contracts, kicks off with the return to Miami of gun dealer, Efraim Diveroli (Jonah Hill), back in town from L.A. seeking to take his business to new heights. It’s a madcap plan for which he needs a partner whom he can trust.  This he finds in childhood best friend David Packouz (Miles Teller), a stoner struggling to make ends meet as a massage therapist catering to rich, South Beach gay guys.  Because of his anti-war politics—but more so due to those of his gorgeous wife, Iz (Ana de Armas)—Packouz is initially reluctant to partner up with his high school bestie, but when faced with impending fatherhood, he dives headfirst into the operation, braving the ravages of war-torn Iraq and the crumbling state of post-communist Albania in the process.  

            War Dogs is not quite a gangster film, although it seems to want to be one very badly.  A constant homage to Scarface is rendered through a prominent painting of Al Pacino as Tony Montana rocking an M16 assault rifle. It hangs in the offices of AEY, the name of Efraim’s company, near the spot Efraim gifts David with a gold hand grenade bearing a quote from that same film (“The world is yours.” in case you’re wondering).  

            In spite of its entertaining drama and riveting, high-powered antics, War Dogs comes across as a bit one-sided and light. While the real David Packouz appears in a cameo as the guitar-strumming singer in a South Florida old folk’s home, the real Efraim Diveroli is conspicuously absent, even from a consultation role.

For all his involvement in questionable arms transactions, Packouz’ character is depicted as fundamentally good, practically forced into this line of work after being taken advantage of by his pathological liar of an associate, the shady Diveroli. The resulting film version of Efraim is an over-the-top caricature that plays well on the big screen but seems to stretch the truth that it takes two to (foxtrot) tango.

It’s been said the real Diveroli, who had nothing to do with the production, refused contact with Jonah Hill upon being approached by him to gain insight for his role. It’s worth noting the story originally appeared in a Rolling Stone article by Guy Larson and that the film version of events contains fictionalized portions, some entirely based on the experiences of the screenwriting team. 

            War Dogs succeeds in not letting its spot-on critique of the maddening business of war—particularly the profit motive behind armed conflict—get in the way of weaving a classic tale of the rise and dramatic fall of the underdog—in this case, a pair of war profiteers. It also wins for presenting yarmulke-wearing proto-gangsters as unlikely antiheros, one of them endomorphically-challenged at that, a trope that harkens to Robert de Niro’s role in Martin Scorsese’s Casino.

Bradley Cooper, one of the film’s producers, delivers as arms dealer Henry Girard, an elegantly dressed, aviator glasses-wearing sleaze ball whose mixed alliances lend him a complex set of motivations. His appearances are as brief as they are intense and furtive, leaving—like the film—more questions unanswered than not. At least he pays the big bucks to let sleeping dogs lie.    

Bros, Broads and Blood | GOODFELLAS (1990)

Don't tell mama about the body in the trunk.

Dir. Martin Scorsese

Being such a character-driven genre piece, there’s much to love about re-watching Goodfellas, with its smattering of brilliant performances from an all-star cast, if there ever was one to wax nostalgic about.

Making an appearance just long enough to get whacked, skinny-ass Samuel L. Jackson’s cameo as Stacks Edwards is fantastic as it is bloody and brief. The real heavyweights here, though, are Paul Sorvino and drama queen Loraine Bracco, each pouring forth raw talent at opposite ends of the spectrum, the former delivering a quiet tour-de-force as mob boss Paulie Cicero and the latter playing Karen Hill, a tightly-wound mafia wife driven to high hysterics by her husband’s besmirched career path.

That gangster is Henry Hill, played by Ray Liotta, a pretty-boy ruffian with the bluest eyes who serves as the perfect foil to partners-in-crime, James Conway (Robert de Niro) and Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci). Not only does the trio condone the gory requirements of their profession, they appear to enjoy it, an unnerving trait in characters with so much simpatico. 

The supporting cast provides a human tapestry over which the story weaves through, with stellar turns delivered by Martin’s mother, Catherine Scorsese, as the universal Italian mom, Illeana Douglas popping in as the doe-eyed gangster girlfriend, Rosie, and especially Debbi Mazar as top coke bitch, Sandy, who knows a thing or two about chopping up and packing blow.

Throw in the accents of Queens, New York, and the gaudy-chic style of the late '70s / early '80s and you’ve got not just an undying cult classic, but a true-ringing sociological study of a time and place that will come to exert great influence on subsequent generations of filmmakers such as Quentin Tarantino.