The Irishman

I'm pleased to say that a fifth entry has finally been added to the Martin Scorsese Pantheon.  For years, MEAN STREETS, TAXI DRIVER, RAGING BULL, and GOODFELLAS remained a classic quartet that was unequaled by the director's other (mostly very good) films.  The only one to come close to membership in this most elite of clubs was THE KING OF COMEDY.  But now we have the long anticipated THE IRISHMAN, released by financier Netflix on its streaming service last week.  The film is being shown in theaters, mainly in independents and smaller chains.  Due to some convoluted (and highly unfortunate) Netflix calculus, the big guys like AMC cannot show it.

Of course, this is a shame because if there is any contemporary epic, THE IRISHMAN is it. Deserves to be experienced on the largest screen possible.  I am ashamed to say that I have not made it out to the theater.  It is with some embarrassment that I admit that I watched the film in three parts on Thanksgiving Day.  Many viewers will have no choice but to break up this three and one half hour film due to busy schedules and responsibilities.  I really try to avoid watching a film in pieces.  It's not a miniseries.  A rhythm is broken.  I also feel it cheapens the experience.  But, as a character in this film states, "it is what it is."

I was hoping, trusting that Scorsese still had it in him to make a great film.  I mean, great. It was difficult not to be concerned, especially after the Netflix announcement.  Within minutes of the opening, any fears were laid to rest.  The director's trademarks were all there.  The restlessness, the use of music.  The nimble camera. The colorful characterizations. The highly entertaining exchanges.  Some welcome bits of humor.  But what really struck me - that actors Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci were still capable of great performances after years of crap movies and phoning it in.  Shows what the right material and director can do for you.

THE IRISHMAN is based (by screenwriter Steven Zaillian) on former attorney and investigator Charles Brandt's I Heard You Paint Houses, which documents the life of American labor official and mafia hitman Frank Sheeran.  Scorcese wanted his film to bear this title, and it does solely during the opening credits in what sorta feels like a brazen move.  Sheeran is seen from his 30s through 80s, with DeNiro (and other actors) "de-aged" though CGI for most of the picture.  Some have criticized how it looks, and how the actor's body movements don't match that of a younger man's.  The blue eyes are also subject to scrutiny.  For me, it served its purpose and was rarely a distraction.  As someone said, what makes it all work is the acting.  And this longtime icon is as good as he's ever been.

Sheeran becomes involved with the Bufalino crime family, namely Russell (Pesci, beautifully restrained), a cool as ice mafia head who takes a shine to Frank and keeps him busy with all sorts of crime, including hits on rivals and anyone else who's "gotta go."  We get Thelma Schoonamker's world class editing of swift violence, including the infamous murder at Umberto's Clam House in Little Italy.   Eventually, Frank will be introduced to and become close with Teamster leader Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino, in over the top mode, but still excellent).  Even become his bodyguard. Will we learn what really happened to Hoffa? Yes, but in the grand scheme the details will almost feel like an afterthought.

The film gives us history lessons on a large gallery of players.  Sometimes even details their eventual fates in scrawl over a freeze frame of their faces.  JFK, RFK, The Bay of Pigs, Nixon, and other key figures and events are part of this based on fact story, though arguments are unavoidable about how much is embellished here.  But essentially, for all of its breadth, THE IRISHMAN is a very simple tale of sin and redemption.  More specifically, how a life of one may make the other impossible by the time the final breath is near.  The last half hour or so is quite shattering.  A summary of hard lives and their rotten fruit.  Don't let me spoil it for you, because if you've paid attention, if you've really been invested in this long, sobering movie, it will all feel like a gut punch long before the credits.

Also, for Scorsese's amazing library of films.  Not just the goombah dramas.  I know this isn't the director's swan song, but what a send off it would be.   It's an elegy, a valediction.  After a first act that echoes the energy of GOODFELLAS, this film slows way down and considers the fallout, the inevitiblity.  The broken relationships.  The "business" that erodes everything that gives a man a soul. In a devastatingly quiet fashion.  A master like Martin Scorsese would never let things get sentimental or maudlin, but the emotions by the conclusion of THE IRISHMAN are as tangible as any movie I've seen lately.  Bravo, gentlemen.  Hey Marty, I hear you make movies.