Entertainment
These 10 Gangster Movies Become Masterpieces in the First 10 Minutes
A great gangster movie doesn’t waste time. The best of them announce their style, tone, and moral compass within the first few scenes. The opening sequences on this list are incredibly efficient from a narrative perspective, introducing key characters, revealing their motivations, moving plot pieces into position, and hinting at the core themes.
The titles below include some of the greatest classics of crime cinema. These movies practically explode onto the screen, letting you know right away that you’re watching something destined to be remembered. Their opening acts arrive with so much power and intention that it’s practically impossible not to anoint them as the stuff of cinematic brilliance.
‘Miller’s Crossing’ (1990)
“Hell, Leo, I’m talkin’ about ethics.” The opening of Miller’s Crossing is very pulpy on its face, serving to assemble all the major plot elements and get them rolling, but the Coen Brothers handle it with so much style that it comes across less like exposition and more like character building. We meet mob boss Leo (Albert Finney) and his slick consigliere Tom (Gabriel Byrne) in a darkened office, listening to a rival gangster (John Polito) plead his case. He’s asking permission to murder bookie Bernie (John Turturro), who is under Leo’s protection. We learned that Leo is involved with Bernie’s sister… as is Tom.
Within minutes, we’re plunged into a morally murky world where loyalty is slippery, alliances shift like quicksand, and every word carries the threat of bloodshed. The rhythm of the dialogue, part menace, part comedy, immediately sets the film’s tone. This will be a tale of operatic violence laced with irony.
‘Carlito’s Way’ (1993)
“Somebody’s pulling me close to the ground… I ain’t panicked. I been here before.” Carlito’s Way wastes no time in undercutting the myth of gangster glamour. The movie begins with Carlito Brigante (Al Pacino) being gunned down, his fate sealed from the get-go. We see Carlito on a stretcher, his life flashing in narration as he recalls how he tried (and failed) to escape the cycle of crime.
By starting with the end, De Palma transforms what could have been a by-the-numbers gangster story into a full-on tragedy, one in which every choice carries a sense of doom. The opening minutes also showcase De Palma’s typically kinetic camera work, swooping through the chaos of the aftermath, immersing us in Carlito’s fading perspective. That said, the true highlight is undoubtedly Pacino. Here, he gives perhaps his last great crime movie performance. In the years to follow, he would get increasingly hammy.
‘Mean Streets’ (1973)
“You don’t make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets.” Few films announce a director’s voice as powerfully as Mean Streets. It starts with a voice-over from Charlie (Harvey Keitel) discussing religion, guilt, and sin, announcing all the movie’s central themes. Then we get a Rolling Stones needle drop and an introduction of Charlie’s crew, followed by shots of life in Little Italy, setting the scene, then Charlie goes through his daily ritual of lighting candles in a church (the spiritual themes once again).
The sequence is capped off by the appearance of Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro), the reckless, volatile force who will drive most of the drama. In other words, this opening contains the whole movie in microcosm. In particular, it tells us a lot about Charlie’s character and inner struggles. The killer music and dynamic cinematography ensure that all feels natural and never like an info dump.
‘Scarface’ (1983)
“I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.” De Palma and Pacino strike again. Scarface makes its intentions clear right from the start: this is gangster drama as Shakespearean epic. The movie opens with newsreel footage of the Mariel boatlift, grounding Tony Montana’s story in real history. Then we meet the man himself, interrogated by U.S. officials, defiant and unrepentant. He gives sarcastic answers, mocks the officers, and refuses to admit to any criminal history, even when confronted with evidence. Tony is then processed at a refugee camp, where he accepts a deal from gangsters to kill one of their enemies in exchange for a green card.
These scenes show that, rather than being your conventional crime movie hustler, Tony is a genuine force of nature, someone determined to bend the world to his will. In those early minutes, you see the ambition, the arrogance, and the hunger that will drive him to both unimaginable heights and catastrophic downfall.
‘Casino’ (1995)
“When you love someone, you’ve gotta trust them. There’s no other way.” Casino explodes into motion from its very first moments, with Sam “Ace” Rothstein (Robert De Niro) stepping into his car only to be engulfed by a fireball. It’s a shocking opening, staged in slow motion against a heavenly piece of music by Bach. What follows is a bravura montage of voice-over and imagery, as Scorsese lays out the mechanics of Las Vegas: the mob’s money, the casinos’ allure, and the sprawling corruption beneath the neon.
In no time flat, you’re not only immersed in the world but also in the minds of its players, with narration splitting between Ace, Nicky (Joe Pesci), and Ginger (Sharon Stone). The sequence almost feels like a short film in its own right. In other words, the film’s mastery is clear immediately. From the very first frame, you know this is going to be another Scorsese classic.
‘The Departed’ (2006)
“I don’t want to be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.” The Departed grabs the audience instantly with Jack Nicholson‘s gravelly voice-over as crime boss Frank Costello. “No one gives it to you,” he says. “You have to take it.” The early scenes, intercut with archival footage of Boston unrest, lay out the central conflict: cops, criminals, and the blurred line between them. We watch Costello grooming a young boy to enter his empire even while, simultaneously, the police academy prepares its own recruits, setting the stage for a story about moles, double lives, and divided loyalties.
The sequence shows us an entire ecosystem of corruption, power, and paranoia. It does so while remaining highly entertaining: the editing is rapid, the dialogue crackling, the tone viciously funny. It’s one of the sharpest, most gripping openings in crime cinema, promising a film of relentless tension and moral ambiguity. And it delivers.
‘Once Upon a Time in America’ (1984)
“I slipped. I slipped.” Subverting genre expectations, Once Upon a Time in America begins not with violence but with memory. A woman is found murdered. Gangsters are looking for someone named Noodles. Then we meet him (De Niro), lying in a darkened opium den, a man haunted by his past, wandering through the wreckage of old betrayals. We then flashback to Noodles pulling off a daring escape by train while a mob pursues him, piquing our curiosity.
Sergio Leone uses silence, shadows, and phone calls echoing in empty rooms to create an atmosphere of ghostly regret. Then, Ennio Morricone’s mournful score swells, binding the imagery to an emotional register few gangster films ever reach. The sequence is about mood rather than plot. It lays the groundwork for a movie about memory, loyalty, and loss, something much grander and more complex than a simple monster movie. They also establish the film’s dreamlike, nonlinear structure.
‘The Godfather Part II’ (1974)
“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” The Godfather Part II starts with a Sicilian funeral procession. We learn that young Vito’s father has been murdered by the local mafia boss. Vito’s brother swears vengeance and is swiftly killed, too. Vito flees to America, finding work at a grocery store. However, the local extortionist costs him a job, and Vito turns to petty theft in order to get by. In parallel, we rejoin Michael Corleone in the present day, now the cold and commanding head of the family, hosting a celebration that feels more like a coronation.
The juxtaposition of young Vito’s hope and Michael’s ruthless authority is staggering. Within minutes, the film establishes its themes of legacy, exile, and the American Dream. It shows us the brutal world Vito was born into, one where power is absolute, and insult equals death. America should offer a fresh start and a fair shake, but even there, Vito can’t escape the reach of thugs and criminals.
‘The Godfather’ (1972)
“I believe in America. America has made my fortune.” The beginning of Part II is fantastic, but the start of the first movie still takes the cake. The Godfather begins with Bonasera’s (Salvatore Corsitto) monologue, spoken in shadow before the imposing figure of Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando). It’s a masterstroke of introduction: we meet the Don not through violence, but through his reputation, his quiet authority, his ability to grant justice outside the law. The wedding that follows expands the world, showing the Corleone family in both their warmth and their ruthless business dealings.
With impressive economy, Coppola establishes the duality at the heart of the saga: family as both sanctuary and weapon. Gordon Willis’s sepia-toned cinematography gives the film an Old World gravitas, while Nino Rota‘s now-iconic score sets the emotional tone. By the time the sequence is over, we’re already hooked, and the movie’s classic status is already assured.
‘Goodfellas’ (1990)
“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.” With that line, you know you’re in for a banger. Scorsese wastes no time immersing us in Henry Hill’s (Ray Liotta) world, beginning with a shocking moment of violence: Henry, Jimmy (De Niro), and Tommy (Joe Pesci) pulling over to finish off a half-dead rival stuffed in their trunk. Then the narration kicks in, and suddenly we’re swept into Henry’s childhood in Brooklyn, where the lure of mob life is irresistible. Kids aspire to be gangsters, not because they’re evil or want to hurt people, but because the gangsters appear to have money, respect, and immunity.
The editing in these scenes is razor-sharp, the music pulses with energy, and Scorsese’s camera moves with vibrancy and rhythm. Everything just feels so alive. In this sequence and every one to follow, Goodfellas rewrites the rules of the gangster movie, managing to be kinetic, funny, brutal, profound, and stylish all at once.
