"The Irishman" opens with a needle-drop (The Five Satins' "In the Still of the Night") and a lengthy tracking shot, lest there were any doubt that this is the eagerly-awaited new film from director Martin Scorsese. But his return to the gangster milieu is anything but a greatest-hits compilation from a filmmaker in his autumn years; as a storyteller and a crafter of images, he remains as bold and as provocative as ever.
This is a movie that breaks any number of Cinema 101 rules, from inserting flashbacks within flashbacks to throwing traditional concepts of pacing and structure out the window. (Please, film students, don't try this at home.) At the age of 76, Scorsese is embracing new technologies with the fervor of Ang Lee (without punishing our eyes with a high frame rate) and indulging in retro fantasy with the keen eye of Quentin Tarantino (without slapping a smiley-face sticker onto history).
And while "The Irishman" is a breathless, gangster's-eye-view of American history from the end of World War II to post-Watergate malaise and beyond, the flash of mob life -- the pinky rings, the stacks of cash -- is ultimately balanced by the finality of death or, in rare instances, aging. (When new characters are introduced, we get an on-screen graphic telling us when and how they will die.) Like another of this year's best films, Pedro Almodóvar's "Pain and Glory," this is an unflinching look at the frequently taboo subject of getting old, of having your knees give out and your teeth go away and your loved ones abandon you over past sins.
Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) has no shortage of sins; we follow his rise in the ranks from meat-delivery driver (who looks the other way when a mobster-restaurateur played by Bobby Cannavale swipes his steaks) to a "house painter," the film's euphemism for a hired killer. (Scorsese bookends the film with the Godardian frame-filling sentence "I HEARD/YOU/PAINT HOUSES," the title of Charles Brandt's book upon which Steven Zaillian's screenplay is based.) Frank is the titular Irishman, but he has the friendship and protection of higher-up Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci), who ultimately connects Frank with Teamsters boss Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino).
Frank becomes indispensable to Hoffa after helping destroy the cars of a Chicago cab company that won't join the Teamsters; lovers of Checker Cabs may need to avert their eyes as these vintage vehicles, or beautifully-rendered CG versions of them, are pushed off piers or set on fire. Eventually, Frank becomes Hoffa's close friend and enforcer, but later there's a tug of war for his fealty; after going to prison, Hoffa attempts to regain the presidency by calling out organized crime's influence upon the union, much to the annoyance of Russell and the guys up the chain from him.
We've seen plenty of Mafiosi rise and fall on the big screen, even in Scorsese's own films, but "The Irishman" never tells its tale in a rote fashion. That opening tracking shot takes place in a nursing home, where an older Frank is telling his life story to no one in particular. His narrative takes us back to a car trip Frank and Russell and their respective wives Irene (Stephanie Kurtzuba, doing a lot with very little dialogue) and Carrie (Kathrine Narducci, "The Sopranos") are taking from Philadelphia to Detroit, ostensibly for a wedding. From there, Zaillian's script jumps back to Frank and Russell's first meeting, and even to Frank's stint in World War II, and occasionally forward to the nursing home.
It's a dizzying tightrope walk of times and places, but thanks to Thelma Schoonmaker, the Wallenda of editors, it always works. Each era comes with its own signifiers that allow us to keep track of when we are in the story, from the wives' Pucci resort wear to the luxury cars to the resurrection of such beloved chains as Lum's and Howard Johnson's, which left me craving the former's chili dogs and the latter's orange sherbet.
The faces of our leading men are the other guidepost -- Scorsese and his VFX team have famously de-aged De Niro, Pesci and Pacino to reflect the passage of the decades, and the digital trickery is nearly flawless. (De Niro looks a little waxy in a reverse shot during a conversation with Pesci, but that's the only jarring moment.) The post-production facework never leaps out as fake, and it never stands in the way of three powerful performances: Pesci has spent too long away from the camera, while De Niro and Pacino have indulged in far too many paycheck gigs, so it's exciting to see all three of them at the peak of their powers.
De Niro's Frank fits in his wheelhouse of soft-spoken, shrugging characters who can be pushed to terrifying violence, but the actor takes us deeply into Frank's pain, particularly when we see how his life of crime has turned him into a lonely old man whose adult daughters don't want to see him. Scorsese knows how to play Pacino's bombast like a conductor, never allowing him to go too big or for too long, and to watch the actor explode with anger opposite Pesci's trademark quiet menace is a breathtaking moment of cinema.
"The Irishman" offers one breathlessly exciting sequence after another that immediately feel like part of the canon, from a barbershop slaying that Rodrigo Prieto's camera glides past, showing us a florist's window while we hear the mayhem offscreen, to a sequence in which Frank demonstrates how to choose the right gun for a public slaying and whether or not to go to the bathroom before committing the murder. (Scorsese and Schoonmaker could teach most documentarians a thing or two about explaining process and guiding audiences through the basics of How Things Work.)
If viewers quibble with the film's 209-minute running time, it's most likely going to be for the film's melancholy latter portion, in which Frank and Russell deal with the aftermath of Hoffa's disappearance. This is the section about aging and obsolescence, and most movies, let alone crime movies, leave this part out. It's not splashy. It's not sexy. But it's integral to the story being told here, and it's essential for an older filmmaker to include when painting a portrait of a life, even when it's a life that has been spent in nefarious activity. Decline isn't just an epilogue; it's a key part of the whole process.
This is a movie that's rife with characters, with incidents, with ideas, with history, and as such, it will benefit from multiple viewings. But even after the first watch, "The Irishman" hits hard, and it's a reminder that nearly 30 years after "GoodFellas," Martin Scorsese still has fascinating mob tales to tell, and fascinating ways to tell them.
"The Irishman" premieres on Netflix Nov. 27, 2020.
Martin Scorsese's Crime Films Ranked, From 'Boxcar Bertha' to 'The Irishman' (Photos)
Martin Scorsese has made 25 narrative feature films, and only eight of them have been about people who live a criminal lifestyle. Yet when we think about his work, we think about the gangsters. Not Alice (who doesn’t live here anymore), not Christ (and his last temptation), but wise guys in slick suits who break the law, look good doing it, and always end up dead, miserable or both.
That’s probably because Scorsese, who grew up in New York City and knows the culture intimately, brings a specificity to his crime movies that matches his well-known virtuosity behind a camera. He may have made more films about other subjects than he has about criminals, but he helped define the way we look at criminality on screen. And he keeps coming back to the subject, again and again, to refine his techniques and to approach similar topics from all-new angles.
Let’s take a look at all the Scorsese movies that can confidently be called “crime” films, and see how they stack up against each other, which ones are truly essential:
Netflix
8. "Boxcar Bertha" (1972)
Martin Scorsese’s first crime movie -- and second feature -- stars Barbara Hershey as the eponymous young woman in the Great Depression whose boyfriend Big Bill (David Carradine) tries to start a railroad union. But when the law turns them into criminals, they decide to play the part for real and begin robbing the rich. Hershey is great, and so is Bernie Casey as their most dignified partner in crime, but the subtle character work and commentary about 1930s racism, sexism and economic disparity get lost in the lurid violence and sensuality that producer Roger Corman demanded of his exploitation cinema in the 1970s. “Boxcar Bertha” is at war with itself, and although Scorsese’s work was undeniably promising, it’s a war that nobody wins.
Photo by American International Pictures/Getty Images
7. "Gangs of New York" (2002)
Arguably Scorsese’s most epic production, with elaborate sets that recreate mid-19th century New York City, “Gangs of New York” stars Leonardo DiCaprio as Amsterdam Vallon, a thief who sidles up to boisterous gangster Bill “The Butcher” Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis), the man who killed Amsterdam’s father. Scorsese’s gigantic film is a masterpiece of period detail, from the sets to the costumes to the painstakingly recreated period-accurate accents. Unfortunately, the story gets lost in all the research; the film’s subplots are all more captivating than Amsterdam’s relationship with Bill, on which the entire movie supposedly hangs. Daniel Day-Lewis and most of the film’s supporting cast seem to fully inhabit this vibrant old world, with broad performances that could be straight out of a silent movie. In contrast, DiCaprio’s and co-star Cameron Diaz’s relatively contemporary acting styles make them look like they wandered in from another film.
Touchstone Pictures
6. "The Irishman" (2019)
Scorsese’s biopic about Frank “The Irishman” Sheeran, the man who allegedly killed Jimmy Hoffa, is a panoramic gangster epic unlike any of his other panoramic gangster epics. Robert De Niro stars as Frank, who develops close relationships with mobster Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci) and Hoffa (Al Pacino) over the course of many years, while short-changing his family and accomplishing nothing of consequence other than a body count. “The Irishman” goes right up to the point where all other gangster movies would end, then keeps going, as these powerful wise guys wither and die, giving Scorsese’s whole contribution to the gangster genre a fitting, thoughtful and melancholy denouement. But although the film is designed to play like the ramblings of an old man, it arguably does that job a little too well, and sometimes strains to justify its colossal running time.
Netflix
5. "The Departed" (2006)
Scorsese’s remake of Andrew Lau and Alan Mak’s sleek and stunning Hong Kong classic “Infernal Affairs” is huge and sloppy, but never less than riveting. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as Billy Costigan, a cop sent undercover with demonic Boston mobster Frank Costello, played by Jack Nicholson. What Costigan doesn’t realize is that Costello has his own sleeper agent, Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon), who’s infiltrated the task force that’s out to get Costello. The plot gets more complicated and fascinating when Costigan and Sullivan are assigned to root out the mole in both organizations, forcing them to chase after each other -- and themselves. Scorsese keeps the tricky storyline easy to follow, and Jack Nicholson gives an iconic performance, with Vera Farmiga, Alec Baldwin and Oscar-nominee Mark Wahlberg popping off the screen with memorable supporting turns. “The Departed” isn’t Scorsese’s richest gangster movie, but it may be his most thrilling.
Warner Bros.
4. "Mean Streets" (1973)
Harvey Keitel and Robert De Niro have breakout roles in Scorsese’s first film about Italian-American gangsters, a free-flowing slice-of-life drama about low-level thugs balancing friendship, romance and minor scams in New York City in the 1960s. Keitel plays Charlie, a young mobster who struggles to balance the lifestyle he loves with his Catholic upbringing, opposite De Niro as Johnny Boy, the carefree firecracker who’s got debts all over town and an ever-growing list of enemies. Charlie tries to keep Johnny Boy out of trouble, but he may be powerless to prevent this coming-of-age tale from turning into a bitter tragedy. Scorsese's film is so dense with incidental detail that it doesn't feel like you're watching these moments; it feels like you fell into them, and the eclectic soundtrack and inventive camera work make even lazy evenings at the bar with the fellas pop like fireworks.
Warner Bros.
3. "The Wolf of Wall Street" (2013)
White-collar crime gets filmed with all the overwhelming zeal of a violent gangster epic in Scorsese’s hilarious and bitter biopic about stock-market con man Jordan Belfort. Leonardo DiCaprio gives a masterful and bizarrely physical performance as Belfort, who stole millions and millions and doesn’t get treated like a mobster because he never put a gun to anyone’s head, even though he obviously should. “The Wolf of Wall Street” is a wild and vicious condemnation of a system that rewards the despicable, while admitting, in no uncertain terms, the shiny appeal of Belfort’s road to moral dissolution. DiCaprio gives his finest, funniest and most intriguing performance as Belfort, while Margot Robbie dazzles in her breakout turn as his wife, Naomi.
Paramount Pictures
2. "Casino" (1995)
Scorsese’s exposé of the Las Vegas criminal underworld isn’t one of his typical morality tales: It’s discordant and intensified, and it never seems to take a breath (just like Vegas itself), and its storyline doesn’t so much come to an end as get suddenly beaten to death. Robert De Niro stars as “Ace” Rothstein, a gambling expert who’s given the reins of his own casino, the Tangiers, while his childhood friend Nicky Santoro (Joe Pesci) takes over the violent crime along the strip, and his wife Ginger (Sharon Stone) gradually dissolves into depression and drug abuse because Ace won’t let her go. “Casino” is excessive on every cinematic level, but Scorsese keeps it focused, employing dazzling imagery and stunning editing to convey the grotesqueries of Vegas with all of the majesty that cinema allows.
Universal Pictures
1. "Goodfellas" (1990)
As far back as Henry Hill can remember, he always wanted to be a gangster. Scorsese’s masterpiece follows young Hill from his early days as a street hustler to the inner mafia circles, into absolute desperation and decay, and onward into limbo. As Hill, Ray Liotta captures the slickness and the slime of criminal excess, while Joe Pesci’s hair-trigger temper offers a constant reminder that every single moment of this seemingly appealing lifestyle could lead directly to your own murder, only seconds later. Captivating cinematography (by Michael Ballhaus) captures the glitz, while the film expands and contracts to show how fleeting success can be, and how interminable your last day as a free man feels. Revealing, earnest, beautiful and cruel, “Goodfellas” is the ultimate Scorsese experience.
Warner Bros.
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In honor of the 30th anniversary of "Goodfellas," we take a look at the Oscar-winning director's cornucopia of films about people who live a criminal lifestyle
Martin Scorsese has made 25 narrative feature films, and only eight of them have been about people who live a criminal lifestyle. Yet when we think about his work, we think about the gangsters. Not Alice (who doesn’t live here anymore), not Christ (and his last temptation), but wise guys in slick suits who break the law, look good doing it, and always end up dead, miserable or both.
That’s probably because Scorsese, who grew up in New York City and knows the culture intimately, brings a specificity to his crime movies that matches his well-known virtuosity behind a camera. He may have made more films about other subjects than he has about criminals, but he helped define the way we look at criminality on screen. And he keeps coming back to the subject, again and again, to refine his techniques and to approach similar topics from all-new angles.
Let’s take a look at all the Scorsese movies that can confidently be called “crime” films, and see how they stack up against each other, which ones are truly essential:
Netflix
Photo by American International Pictures/Getty Images
