Many of the best films and television shows are about mobsters: The Godfather movies, The Sopranos, The Wire. Their dramatic tension comes from the dynamic between legitimacy and crime; the characters have achieved success through theft and violence, but they feel guilty and scared and want to get clean. Yet, in spite of their intentions to reform, the life lures them to return or punishes them for leaving. As Michael Corleone famously says, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”
A Most Violent Year presents an alternative narrative. The film follows Abel Morales, the owner of a growing, successful heating oil business in New York City. He’s about to sign a deal on a storage facility which will catapult him ahead of his competitors. But, simultaneously, his trucks are being hijacked and he’s lost thousands of gallons of fuel, and the heating oil industry is under federal investigation. Abel is committed to business honesty even as his industry – and family – are tied to the mob and his drivers and fuel are under threat. Because of his associations and circumstances, he loses the support of his bank in the land deal. He is scrupulously upright, but the darkness surrounding him might sink his business. And, it seems, the only sources of funding are the criminals he has always avoided. “They keep pulling at me, but I have to stay out.” Unlike in Genesis, here it is Abel who has sin crouching at the door like a wolf.
One of the main reasons mob movies and shows are often good is the natural combination of meaningful drama and thrilling action. Think of The Godfather, often called the greatest character-driven drama of all time but also featuring some of the hardest-hitting action on film. We care about the action more because we care about the characters involved. A Most Violent Year exploits this possibility effectively. Abel and his wife, played by Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain, are fascinating characters. The best chase scene in years comes when Abel follows a hijacked truck, then runs down the driver. Thrilling as it would be in isolation, the scene pops because we know what’s at stake and care about the outcome.
Even more important, mob stories make a trenchant commentary on America and its economy. Tony Soprano is willing to go to criminal lengths in running his business . . . but is he really so different from other businessmen? The law draws the lines of propriety, and he’s on the other side. But, as he works to support his family and protect his “family,” those lines look pretty arbitrary. In A Most Violent Year, that line follows Abel like a pursuing tripwire, even as he tries to stay away from it. Everyone around him wallows in crime, but he keeps to his code. The film asks a different, but related question: can his business succeed without illegal measures?
Good as it is, A Most Violent Year does not join the ranks of great mob movies. For one thing, that name – Abel Morales – is way too obvious for a man trying to maintain his virtue. And one of the major events in the story is an unexplained plot hole. But it is an excellent examination of self-righteousness. For, in the end, Abel does compromise his code, though he still thinks he has maintained it. He is more committed to his identity as good and honest than to being good and honest. As many Americans do, he thinks he’s earned his success when actually he’s bought it, paying with his own integrity.