"What if they come after the kid?"--Annabella Sciorra
One gets Abel Ferrara, but the way in which The Funeral spirals outward unnecessarily causes confusion, and if I can sit still for the next viewing I will take a second look. Walken was not entirely convincing as anything but Christopher Walken keeping time with rigid key notes, stuck between Francis Ford Coppola's operatic take on the consolidation of power, and Scorsese's more graphic glamour menace. You don't stand in the dirt arguing with your mark as a salve to the ethics of your marriage and then conclude with the recognition that compassion is not part of the Costra Nostra business model go boom. Ferrara does offer some convincing grimy moments with the Giovanni flashbacks, and this degree of courage might have served him better. A truer examination of how greaseball peasants made American bling culture. The inner city gangsta model is a corroded copy of an already disintegrated model.
Sciorra simply isn't in the film, not quite divested of Criminal Intent barometers of conscience, in the thirties the wife of a syndicate player wouldn't have had that level of pristine television diction, and why Gallo has to redo a tap to Reservoir Dogs is too self serving.
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