Within the Hamptons International Film Festival's jam-packed schedule of premieres and debut features comes a new mob movie.
"It's not a mob movie!" the actor Jennifer Esposito admonished gently over a phone call last week. "It's really not a mob movie at all. It's about finding a voice in a world that tells you that you don't have one. That's what it's about."
"Fresh Kills" is set between 1987 and 1998 on Staten Island, in a neighborhood not far from the saltwater marsh that became a giant garbage dump of the same name, and holds an Italian-American mafioso family in its crosshairs. Except, as Ms. Esposito ardently pointed out, the focus has been (thankfully) redirected away from the stereotypically unsavory, violent hoodlums who run the oppressive crime systems, to the often-silenced women who marry, or are simply born, into that world.
"So, it's about being put into a cycle -- whether it's the Mafia, abuse, alcoholism, poverty, whatever that cycle is -- and how we break that cycle," she said of her directorial debut, in which she also stars. Additionally, she wrote the screenplay and produced the film -- pretty much acing all four categories.
The plot tracks the coming of age of Connie and Rose Larusso, sisters who have been raised within the familial imbroglio of crime, violence, machismo, loyalty, and fear. Their father, Joe, is an up-and-coming mobster, and their mother, Francine (played by Ms. Esposito), knows all but exists unquestioningly. Her solace comes from the fierce bond of family that permeates her circle, as well as newfound luxuries such as the McMansion the family moved to on Staten Island in the late 1980s, at the beginning of the film.
Ms. Esposito has expertly distilled the usual epic Shakespearean tragedies of classic mob movies into an almost claustrophobic study of the small, everyday moments between Francine and her girls, as well as Francine's sister, Christine (played wonderfully by Annabella Sciorra), who also married into the crime family. The emotional pressure that builds as the girls reach adulthood, each one processing the brutal realities of their lives in acutely divergent ways, proves to be almost as annihilating as all the stomach-turning violence of the old-school mobster offerings.
Throughout Rose's agonizing struggle to break free of the ugliness that surrounds her and Connie's submission to it, the camera never flinches. Although the viewer might. A lot.
Throw in a Proustian approach to period details -- the Madonna-obsessed preteens, the hairstyles, the makeup, the granite-counter-topped kitchens, the music, the misogyny -- and the movie becomes a quietly immersive experience, in the way that most American mob movies simply aren't.
This insider's view is hardly surprising given that Ms. Esposito, 51, was born and raised on Staten Island. Although her family wasn't involved in organized crime, she said that there were "mob families all around me." The idea to write a story about how girls and women survived within such households first came to her in high school.
"How do you grow up in that space?" was a question that lingered in her mind. "It was such a repressed neighborhood that I grew up in. Only 18 miles away from New York City and two completely different worlds. Whenever I'd go into the city, I could see there was such a big gap between what I was being exposed to there and what I was being exposed to in Staten Island," she said. "So, the rage I saw [among the girls] wasn't so much about their families but more about being stuck, being born into a place, a space that they couldn't escape from."
As Ms. Esposito embarked upon an acting career, over the years landing roles in films like "Crash" and television shows such as "Spin City" and "NCIS," she noticed an eerie parallel in the glossy world of Hollywood. She was being repeatedly typecast as "ethnic," meaning that she never landed lead roles, which were seemingly earmarked for the likes of Reese Witherspoon.
"I was being pigeonholed in a space that I didn't believe in or agree with. I was told once that I'm not the girl next door. And I said, 'Well, what does that mean? I have neighbors. I live next to people.' But, it was always my accent or my voice that put me in the box of 'other.' So, I was always the best friend, the mistress, the other."
About five years ago, Ms. Esposito, who now lives in New York City and Springs, decided it was time to do something other than complain about ethnic pigeonholing in the film industry.
"Either you do something about it or quit," she told herself. So, she began to write the story of "Fresh Kills," encouraging herself to write every day and "move this train forward." When she finished the script, however, no one was interested, which meant it would need to be self-funded.
"I did anything and everything to raise funds, including mortgaging my house and selling anything of value in my closet." She also turned to an innovative approach to movie funding by offering authenticated nonfungible tokens, or NFTs, to global fan-investor communities using blockchain technology. In a $3.5 million initial public offering on the Ethereum-based exchange platform Upstream, fans could buy "Fresh Kills" securities and "FRESH NFTs" of unique content and access to the talent involved with the project.
"I really got into blockchain as it has the potential to change how we do business," she said. "NFTs are changing who the gatekeepers are on projects like mine. Artists can actually own their own property, their films, and their music, and then share it with the community. So that when the artists make money, the community makes money, instead of the powers that be. It'll take a while before the world catches up, but I do believe it's the future. With crowdsourcing, you stick out a hat. This is a way for people to actually invest in an artistic endeavor."
But it's the human experience that's truly at the core of her debut endeavor as a filmmaker. Ms. Esposito admitted to surreptitiously sitting through every screening of the film, which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June. She wanted to be part of the audience's experience.
"And people were applauding and crying, which made me realize that I'm not alone in wanting and needing stories again," she said. "Stories with people we haven't seen before. Not the usual remakes of superhero movies with the same five actors and actresses. We don't have any big, famous stars in this movie. It's simply all about the story. We're craving that. We need personal stories, beautiful stories, human stories."
A mob story from the female's point of view -- "a young female's point of view," insisted Ms. Esposito -- certainly adds a fresh perspective to a fairly hackneyed genre. It could even be a growing trend. "The Good Mothers," a standout drama series produced in Italy, was released on television this spring, with the spotlight on the desperate lives of the wives, mothers, and daughters of a powerful Calabrian crime syndicate.
Now, with "Fresh Kills," produced with a 75-percent all-female cast and crew, Ms. Esposito hopes that American audiences will leave her screenings wanting to talk about a topic they might not have thought much about until now.
"Fresh Kills" will be screened Saturday at 5 p.m. at the East Hampton Middle School and Tuesday at 5 p.m. at the East Hampton Cinema.
