For residents of Boston, the name James "Whitey" Bulger is practically a household name. A mobster so notorious he made the FBI's Most Wanted list alongside Osama Bin Laden, he was finally arrested in 2011, leading to a 2013 trial in Boston on 19 counts of murder. Many of the victims were innocent civilians who simply became collateral damage in Bulger's reign of terror, which lasted from the 1970s through to the mid-'90s. Yet, the trial of James Bulger is not as open-and-shut as it may seem on the surface. Although there is no question that Bulger was the head of an organized crime syndicate, the real question at the heart of his trial is not about his guilt or innocence, but whether or not he spent most of his time as a mobster providing intel as an informant for the FBI. Bulger emphatically denies that he fed the FBI any information, while the FBI swears he did. It's a crucial question -- if Bulger was not an informant, the Bureau becomes a party to all of those murders, refusing to find, capture, and prosecute someone they knew to be guilty due to internal corruption.

Directed by Joe Berlinger, the producer and director of the Paradise Lost trilogy, Whitey: The United States of America v James Bulger is a compelling examination of the notorious mobster less as a criminal and more through the society that allowed him to prosper. Through interviews with a number of authors, writers, lawyers, and members of victims' families, Berlinger paints a picture of corruption that is at once simple but occurred on a scale that allowed an incredible trail of death and destruction. At times, Berlinger goes so far as to tap on the justice system itself and the way it allows for those who confess to crimes to get off without punishment, but the film uses the progression of the Bulger case as a throughline, keeping the focus on this specific instance of corruption.

For Berlinger, the heart of the corruption story isn't those who were corrupt, but the people who have suffered as a result. The film opens with a story by Steve Rakes, who made the mistake of opening a liquor store in an area where Whitey had influence. He describes Whitey and his associate Steve Flemmi entering the store and cutting him down inside of a minute, a chilling echo of a scene people have seen hundreds of times in mob movies but generally file away as fantasy. Rakes is later joined by Steve Davis, whose sister Debra was one of the 19 murder victims Bulger is on trial for, and Patricia Donahue, whose husband Michael died for being a good neighbor, offering a lift to a man Whitey was about to rub out. Their frustration and anger at what occurred, especially in light of the FBI's potential culpability, is inescapably compelling. Donahue, in particular, does not mince words, calling Bulger a "coward" for refusing to make eye contact with her while she testifies.

At the same time, Berlinger builds up the film's "case" against the FBI through a simple presentation of discrepancies. Most of these discrepancies come from Hank Brennan, a defense attorney for Bulger, who was provided with a 700-page document outlining Bulger's supposed tip-offs and inside information for the FBI. The document is filled with vague and repetitive information, none of which is particularly incriminating. Later, they speak to a former FBI agent who says a document covering the length of time Bulger was supposedly an informant should be in the range of 50,000 pages, and presents one such document, filled with signatures of people up near President Hoover's level of authority. Although members of the current FBI declined to be interviewed, Berlinger sits down with Zachary Hafer, Fred Wyshak, and Brian Kelly, who are unwavering in their conviction that Bulger provided information. What's fascinating about these scenes is that nobody is interested in seeing Bulger go free, and none of them fully deny that corruption existed inside the FBI. The only question is the extent of the corruption, which, at its worst, could result in thousands of criminals having their convictions thrown out.

Some people online have insinuated that Whitey is less than objective, and it's true that Berlinger seems fully convinced of the FBI's guilt in the matter. At the same time, he ends on a quote from Bulger himself, from a call with his attorney, about the nature of truth and corruption that speaks to the film's overall methods. Is Berlinger making a case against the FBI, or is he simply highlighting the areas where foul play seems self-evident? One could say it's a fatal flaw for a documentary to argue that the viewer can never know the truth about the subject it exists to cover, but that lack of oversight is what Berlinger intends to highlight. Whether it's in the service of a greater good or not, what goes on behind closed doors, in law enforcement offices, could affect the lives of innocent people, and it's likely that we won't know it's happening until it's too late.

The Blu-ray
Whitey arrives with stylish artwork designed to look like blood staining through a white material, with bullet holes peppering the image. The stains form the image of James Bulger's face, in the center of the image. The back cover sort of continues the design, but less effort was put into the look of the "stains" on the reverse side. The single-disc release comes in a standard Viva Elite Blu-ray case, and there is no insert inside the case.

The Video and Audio
Presented in 1.78:1 1080p AVC and with a DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track, this is pretty run-of-the-mill stuff for a modern documentary. Loads and loads of VHS-quality footage from investigations and interviews are included, and can only look so good, while the new footage shot for the documentary is razor-sharp and boasts the expected crispness and clarity of modern HD footage. A couple of instances of banding do appear, but for the most part the film looks great. Sound is mostly used to mix the film's score and the audio of interviews or other archival sources, and there is no problem with it. English captions for the deaf and hard of hearing and French and Spanish subtitles are also included (which, amusingly, frequently offers up "youse" when Boston interview subjects are interviewed).

The Extras
A couple of interesting video extras are included. The first is a reel of deleted scenes (12:50, HD), which include fascinating details about Bulger's brother, the excuses of FBI agents involved in the case, and Bulger's methods of manipulation. There's also an extended interview with one family member of a victim, Theresa Barrett Bond, who was not included in the finished film. This is followed by interviews (4:27, HD) with Joe Berlinger and others on the red carpet at the Sundance Film Festival. Nice to hear a little from Berlinger about his ideas behind the film, as he did not record a commentary for the film.

Trailers for Frontera, The Two Faces of January, and Life Itself play before the main menu. An original theatrical trailer for Whitey is also included.

Conclusion
Those who want to know the history of James "Whitey" Bulger will have to turn elsewhere. Joe Berlinger's documentary asks a more intriguing question about the justice system and its involvement with criminals, and whether or not they should be held responsible when their involvement with criminals allows civilians to die. Berlinger seems convinced, but don't mistake that for a lack of objectivity; Whitey presents the questions of the case as questions and leaves it to the audience to draw their own conclusions. The disc comes with a couple of menial supplements and a fine presentation. Recommended.