An enraged construction worker will beat a mob leader to death with a shovel. A frustrated housewife will cheat on her politically prominent husband. A mother will hoard and then dispose of a stash of ill-gotten cash. And authorities will discreetly snap photos of known criminals, from a distance.
It's not ''
The Sopranos," but it promises to be just as gritty. Yet on the cramped living-room set of ''Brotherhood," a TV series about the mob shooting in Providence for the cable network Showtime, the characters are making nice. It's the birthday of mobster protagonist Michael Caffee, who has just stepped into his mother's home with a female companion, unaware of pending events.
''Surprise!
" people shout as Caffee (played by Jason Isaacs) opens the front door.
Caffee, it appears, doesn't like surprises, especially when he's in the company of a woman everyone knows is married to someone else. The set is as silent as a tomb.
''Look what the cat dragged in," his mother, Rose (Fionnula Flanagan), says quietly.
''Ma," says Caffee in a warning tone. ''You remember Kath McCarthy, she's . . . a friend of mine?"
''How could I not?" Rose says. ''Happy birthday, Michael."
''Cut!" director Nick Gomez announces.
With just five months to go until the highly anticipated sixth season of HBO's ''Sopranos," Showtime is hustling to produce its own mob story. But executives don't want to stress the comparison. The network, in mobspeak, plans to come heavy with its own thing.
''Brotherhood" will follow the lives of an Irish mobster in Providence and his brother, a member of the Rhode Island House of Representatives who is under a lot of pressure from his sibling's associates to bend the rules. The series, which is loaded with racial and socio-economic tensions, is inspired by the real-life brotherhood of Boston's William Bulger, the former state senator and university president, and James ''Whitey" Bulger, one of the FBI's most-wanted fugitives. But the program, which was originally set in Boston and called ''Southie," is not biographical, its creator insists. ''I didn't want to do their story," says Blake Masters, executive producer, in an interview in his office here. ''The idea of telling a story through two brothers is just an interesting dynamic."
Clearly, the Caffee brothers are not the Bulgers, most notably because they live in Providence and aren't nearly as powerful in their respective circles as the Bulgers were. Michael Caffee was once in line to run the show locally but fell out of favor with the reigning crime boss because of an unauthorized killing. After seven years on the run for the murder, he's back in Providence to reclaim his territory. Tommy Caffee (Australian actor Jason Clarke) is his younger brother, a rising star in the state house whose link to Michael makes his professional life murky as underworld types lean on him for state-sponsored favors. Masters says he moved the series to Rhode Island because, in the wake of the Boston-based feature films ''Mystic River" and ''The Departed," Providence is ''less explored" terrain.
Now 29 years old, Showtime has struggled to define itself in the changing television landscape. Although it recently won its first Emmy (a supporting actress nod for Blythe Danner in ''Huff"), the network's original programming has been heavily niche-oriented (the African-American drama ''Soul Food," the gay-themed ''Queer as Folk") or has fizzled after early buzz (the comedy ''Fat Actress").
Now, though, Showtime may have momentum. ''Huff" will return next year as will ''Weeds," a comedy about a pot-dealing suburban widow, which has become the network's highest-rated show. In December, Showtime will premiere ''Sleeper Cell," a miniseries about a Muslim, African-American FBI agent who infiltrates a terrorist cell in Los Angeles.
''Brotherhood" is expected to premiere in May or June.
''We are focused on critical acclaim and buzz and awards, more than on how many people are watching," says Robert Greenblatt, president of entertainment for Showtime, which has 13 million subscribers (HBO has 30 million). ''We want to air controversial, edgy subject matter and flawed characters that aren't allowed on broadcast television," he says. ''We only do a handful of shows a year, so each one has to be something you'd write home about."
The challenge for Showtime is getting viewers not to view the show as a takeoff on ''The Sopranos." ''It will never compare," Greenblatt says. ''We are in Mafia territory, but it's not the mainstay of the show. What's more interesting is to see a family where there are two brothers who have chosen very different paths. The good brother is in a business that is inherently bad [politics]. He has to do things for the greater good that aren't always completely upstanding. Conversely, the guy who wears the black hat [the mobster] actually does some incredibly benevolent things. It's the gray area of all of that that's most interesting."
Here on the set, which includes a nonworking kitchen with real canned beef stew on the stove, as well as faux marble hallways replicating the State House, playfulness is in the air. Idle crew members are hitting a ball with a bat in one corner of the warehouse while others are hovering around buffet tables loaded with cookies, cakes, and brownies.
''Jason! They have your [character's] business card in here with an address and everything," says Isaacs, 42, who is lounging in Tommy Caffee's state house office.
Clarke, who broke into Hollywood three years ago with ''Rabbit-Proof Fence," pops his head inside the office to glance at the cards before returning to business. The 36-year-old actor has been doing extensive research on the Bulgers and Rhode Island politics to prepare for his role. He met with a number of legislators, including the real-life Rhode Island Speaker of the House William Murphy. Clarke also sat in on a few House committee meetings.
''I know every politician in the state," he brags. Murphy has even advised Clarke on what to wear to church in the series. ''They wanted me to wear a suit, but Bill said that's too dressy. A sweater and khakis pants is better," Clarke says.
True to his character, Clarke, who says he was apathetic growing up in Australia, is conflicted about the gray nature of politics in his scripts. ''I'm always thinking, 'This is really dodgy mate. Is this right or wrong?' "
British-born Isaacs, who stopped production briefly in September after his wife gave birth to their second child here, is less concerned about Michael's soul. ''What's criminal?" he says. ''In England, you can bet on when the queen is going to die and that's perfectly legal. . . . If you think the whole system is corrupt, then living outside of it makes perfect sense."
Upstairs in his office, Masters is tinkering with his story lines as he prepares for a read-through of the next day's script with the cast. Greenblatt will listen in via telephone from Los Angeles. For the 34-year-old producer, this show is more than just entertainment. It's a chance to look at a bygone era when ward-style politics dominated immigrant neighborhoods in cities such as Chicago and New York and corruption was king.
''Although those cities have rooted out a lot of the bad, there were good things that were lost too," he says. ''We lost a personal connection to our local politicians. The idea that when a family member died, your politician would come by the house and make sure that you had money for the funeral."
Masters calls that political behavior ''ancient history" in Boston. Rhode Island, he adds, is a different story. ''Rhode Island is referred to as the world's biggest high school . . . Many of the cops, criminals, priests, and lawyers all went to the same schools, they attend the same churches, their wives exchange recipes. I want to explore the contradictions in those relationships -- the idea that the guy who played softball with you in high school is the guy responsible for arresting you today."
As a backdrop, Masters will portray the angst of lower-middle class Irish ''getting squeezed" by the influx of Southeast Asians, Latinos, and yuppies bent on gentrification. Reacting to racial stereotypes and economic pressures, some of his Irish characters will lash out in ugly ways, he says. ''I want your skin to crawl. I want you to be repelled by it. We want you to be horrified by these nice, sweet people who are nice one day, talking about baseball. Then they bash someone's head in and then go back to talking about baseball."
Kevin Chapman, who grew up in Dorchester, is all for the bashing scenes. Just back from filming Clint Eastwood's film ''Flags of Our Fathers," the actor is excited to play the cocky and portly mob boss Freddie Cork . ''It's fun to get dark and almost diabolical," says the actor. ''My character runs the neighborhood. I'm in charge."
''Quiet!" a nearby crew member yells as Chapman chats away. ''We're shooting."
On the set today, Gomez -- not Chapman -- is in charge. And the birthday party is over. ''We're moving on," Gomez announces, signaling to the crew to set up for the next scene.
It's Showtime's hope that viewers will move along with him.
Thanks to
Suzanne C. Ryan
"Goodfellas
" and "The Godfather Part II
Defense attorneys are asking a judge to reduce the eight-year prison term he imposed on the former town president of suburban Cicero so she can be reunited with her young daughter. The request comes two months after an appeals court ruled that Betty Loren-Maltese and five others convicted in 2002 should be resentenced. Prosecutors want her sentence extended to more than 11 years. 
," a history of organized crime in New York. "There's always somebody circulating who knows how to do these things. ... They've been doing it for a long time and they think they can get away with it."
, Rizzolo has a criminal record: he pleaded guilty in 1985 to battery for a baseball bat attack on a Crazy Horse patron, who suffered brain damage, records show.
