“The thing about The Departed, the x-factor that people can’t quite put their finger on, is that it deals clearly with class and accent all these things that are fundamental to Boston, but previously anomalous or even prohibited in demotic American films. Without English art, I never would have understood myself, my own family, or the New England world I lived in, as it was at that time. The Departed is the first time Boston was ever put accurately on screen, and I’m intentionally excluding the Friends of Eddie Coyle, which incidentally had an English director, because Higgins did a sort of Amos and Andy dialect comedy about his own people to entertain an audience of wannabe WASPS.”

— Epic, fascinating (at least to me) interview with William Monahan, screenwriter of The Departed. He also was a former editor for Spy Magazine, too. He has a lot to say about Boston, class, and the English and I think he’s onto something. Despite Monahan’s criticisms, I think The Friends of Eddie Coyle might be my favorite movie about the Boston area, but that’s for a variety of reasons, least of all Robert Mitchum’s perfect performance.

You should go to 2:15, where Amanda Peet and Mark Ruffalo give a master class in overacting and horrific Boston accents. Also, this trailer reads as, like, a Funny or Die or bad sketch spoof of a film about Irish Catholics in Southie. But it’s real!

I was tracking this film - What Doesn’t Kill You - for my job at the time, when it was going to be released in winter 08/09, because as someone who grew up in the greater Boston area and was raised Irish Catholic (it’s only 50%, but it was the 50% that mattered growing up), I have a vested interest in how my “people” are portrayed on film. (Generally as illiterate assholes and dirty cops - I mean, I did go to coed Catholic high school with some kids who were clearly Future Alcoholics of America, but really?) The DepaHTed is an interesting example because only Marky Mark, Dorchestah native (Haaavahd grad Damon’s from Cambridge and we all know that doesn’t count), kills it. Because ever since Good Will Hunting, Southie’s been a thing with Boston on the big screen.

Anyways, What Doesn’t Kill You went pretty much straight to DVD because the Yari group folded that winter - I could tell, because when I was sending emails to them inquiring about screenings and my interest in the film, the PR girl was remarkably hostile. Which was ridiculous, because I was interested in her movie.

I was at a funeral in the greater Boston area over the weekend. Let me tell you, the deacon’s Boston accent could put any of these actors to shame. Small example: he said that the deceased had a good “heart.” In his mouth, it came out “haaaaaht” with just a hint of an R. The church was full of mourners, but you got the distinct impression that it had a young people problem. Most of the priests and priestly men, there were five of them, this guy was a heck of a Catholic, looked like the mole-man old guy from The Simpsons.

It was funny being at this funeral, because it was steeped in Irish Catholic culture, exactly what 30 Rock is parodying with Julianne Moore’s “Nancy,” but the horrors of her accent - it doesn’t even read as satire. [Okay, correction: it’s a Kennedy accent, which is pretty much obsolete. Doy me. Doy JM!] Wouldn’t it be funnier if she was truly trying a Boston accent on like the guys in this film? The jokes would work better, I swear.

* The Friends of Eddie Coyle is arguably the greatest Boston film of ALL TIME, with the best accents, too. Whoever wrote that it shows, and I’m paraphrasing, “the existential terror of a life where your bartender is the guy that betrays you” is on point.
** Did Jim Sheridan ever end up working on his movie about FBI most wanted Whitey Bulger and his top Massachusetts politico brother Billy Bulger? I would love to see that. I know that story formed the spine of what Moynihan was going for with The Departed but the real life root of it is definitely worthy.
*** Ethan Hawke was such a preteen crush and his evolution - highlighted by seeing him walking down the street in Tribeca, crude and yelling - has been disappointing. I had preteen Bieber fever over the guy, you know?