Issue link: http://digital.copcomm.com/i/619377
66 P E R S P E C T I V E | J A N UA RY / F E B R UA RY 2 0 1 6 to understand my responsibility to these people and to the people of Boston. How much of the real story should be kept? What are the most visual aspects of these people and this place? Is a strictly factual account of people and places always an accurate one? And is being factual the same as being true to the story? I emphasized to the Art Department that even though our designs would present a specific span in time, from the 1970s and '80s to the very recent past, we should not be consumed with the drip, drip, drip of details, continually shifting to show every new appliance or business machine that became available. Instead, we would create a timeless movie, one firmly set in the period, of course, but which would create a historical, elemental feeling, not a self-conscious, busy one. I decided that as the script returned to certain sets again and again over time, it would not be good to shift and change them only to show the passing of time. That would make the movie look choppy and constantly call attention to itself. It would be better to use details and objects that would show continuity across the years; better to frame a primal, tragic story that takes place over decades. The primary relationship in the movie is the partnership between Whitey Bulger and FBI agent John Connolly. The two had grown up in the same neighborhood of South Boston, and this tribal bond enabled them to work together to fight the enemies of the Irish in Southie, even as one ran extortion rackets and the other rose to become a celebrated federal investigator. Many scenes in the movie portray them meeting with the city as background, observing Boston, not inhabiting it. The surroundings I placed these characters in derive from their differing paths: Whitey's world of the movie is the clutter and bricks and scrap wood of Southie, and Connolly's FBI world is the concrete brutalism of Boston's Government Center. Southie of the '70s and '80s was crowded with clapboard triple deckers, all needing fixing and a fresh coat of paint, but today it is no longer possible for much of Southie to play itself in a movie; years of gentrification and renovation have made it unrecognizable. Nearby smaller cities, waiting for their turn to be improved, still have the character and look of the older neighborhoods. So at times, Southie was played by Lynn, and Revere, and Everett. Whitey grew up in a public housing project; his mother lived there until she died. We visited the actual apartment, but the topic was still too sensitive for us to get permission to shoot there. For the emotional nature of the scenes in his mother's house, I chose instead to build it on a quiet soundstage. I reproduced the same plan, with a few adjustments for shooting needs, and detailed it to show the signs of thirty years of fixes and renovations. Vintage wallpapers from the '50s and replica lighting, kitchen cupboards and floors formed the base, and more Right: Hospital interior pre-vis illustration by Concept Artist Gloria Shih. Below: The hospital room was painted white and a glass partition added to underline both the purity and isolation of Whitey's 6-year-old son, who dies after just a few days of illness. Opposite page, top: A SketchUp model by Art Director Jeremy Woodward and Graphic Designer Geoffrey Mandel of the Bulger dining room. Actual samples of the wallpapers and linoleum chosen to be used on set were scanned and incorporated into the illustration, created with IRender nXt. Center, left to right: Two screen grabs, from the Bulger family dining room, and from Billy Bulger's dining room. Bottom: Whitey's brother Billy was a powerful state senator, and his home reflects that with its warm brown and saffron gold tones, crystal lights, silk decoration, silverware, candles and fireplace.