The Irishman. (15.)
Directed by Martin Scorsese.
Starring Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci, Ray Romano, Bobby Cannavale, Stephen Graham, Anna Paquin and Harvey Keitel. 209 mins.
Individually or in partnership, Scorsese and De Niro have devoted the better parts of their careers to documenting (and glorifying?) the Mafia. Their latest and surely last Mob epic begins with the camera prowling around a retirement home before stopping before De Niro in a wheelchair. In part, this is a self-referential nod to similar, more frenetic, tracking shots in previous Scorsese's pictures. But it is also a setting up of the digital de-ageing process that will allow the major actors to convincingly play the same role throughout a story encompassing the majority of the second half of the twentieth century. Mostly though it's there to let you know that the film will be taking its time over this, it won't be racing along at the giddy clip we are accustomed to in Scorsese films.
This is old ground, gone over slowly. The gang's all here, gathered together for another tale of working your way up through the mob ranks. De Niro is a post-war truck driver Frank Sheerin who, under Pesci's guidance, becomes a hitman and eventually bodyguard and friend to Teamsters union boss Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino.)
Nobody is venturing outside their comfort zone here. The film still touts its original title I Hear You Paint Houses which might have been a better title as Sheerin is to all practical purposes Italian with a capital eye. As Jimmy Hoffa, Pacino is all Pacino: based on a few Youtube clips, he is nothing like Hoffa and seen out of context I doubt any American would be able to guess which figure from their history he was supposedly playing. In the title role, De Niro is all De Niro but that fits, that is how it should be. Plus De Niro hasn't been all De Niro for a very long time so you're grateful for this.
The major theme here is mortality. Almost every character comes with an expiry date, an onscreen graphic of when and how they would die. They may be digitally de-aged but almost all the major players here are old, in their late 70s, and everything takes a bit longer. People complained about Casino, the previous Scorsese/De Niro collaboration being nearly three hours but this feels much longer. Still, possibly the more leisurely pace works for the film. When they are younger it seems like they have all the time in the world until they don't. They are either clipped or gradually have the life drained out of them by the passing years.
The film comes to us from Netflix and their indulging of Scorsese – a surely impossible to recuperate $160million+ budget, the impractical running time – feels like weakness, an act of desperation as they enter a make or break period of intense competition with Apple and Disney and others, who are trying to take over their turf. (Netflix have 7 films coming out in cinemas this month and all of them are less for your consideration as for that of the awards season voters.)
The Irishman is an indulgence but a worthwhile one: this is the curtain coming down not just on a number of exceptional careers but probably a whole way of making and watching movies, and it was really something. It may not be anybody's finest three and a half hours but it is what it is and should be appreciated as such. They earned your indulgence and you owe it to yourself to see them off on the big screen.
Directed by Martin Scorsese.
Starring Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci, Ray Romano, Bobby Cannavale, Stephen Graham, Anna Paquin and Harvey Keitel. 209 mins.
Individually or in partnership, Scorsese and De Niro have devoted the better parts of their careers to documenting (and glorifying?) the Mafia. Their latest and surely last Mob epic begins with the camera prowling around a retirement home before stopping before De Niro in a wheelchair. In part, this is a self-referential nod to similar, more frenetic, tracking shots in previous Scorsese's pictures. But it is also a setting up of the digital de-ageing process that will allow the major actors to convincingly play the same role throughout a story encompassing the majority of the second half of the twentieth century. Mostly though it's there to let you know that the film will be taking its time over this, it won't be racing along at the giddy clip we are accustomed to in Scorsese films.
This is old ground, gone over slowly. The gang's all here, gathered together for another tale of working your way up through the mob ranks. De Niro is a post-war truck driver Frank Sheerin who, under Pesci's guidance, becomes a hitman and eventually bodyguard and friend to Teamsters union boss Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino.)
Nobody is venturing outside their comfort zone here. The film still touts its original title I Hear You Paint Houses which might have been a better title as Sheerin is to all practical purposes Italian with a capital eye. As Jimmy Hoffa, Pacino is all Pacino: based on a few Youtube clips, he is nothing like Hoffa and seen out of context I doubt any American would be able to guess which figure from their history he was supposedly playing. In the title role, De Niro is all De Niro but that fits, that is how it should be. Plus De Niro hasn't been all De Niro for a very long time so you're grateful for this.
The major theme here is mortality. Almost every character comes with an expiry date, an onscreen graphic of when and how they would die. They may be digitally de-aged but almost all the major players here are old, in their late 70s, and everything takes a bit longer. People complained about Casino, the previous Scorsese/De Niro collaboration being nearly three hours but this feels much longer. Still, possibly the more leisurely pace works for the film. When they are younger it seems like they have all the time in the world until they don't. They are either clipped or gradually have the life drained out of them by the passing years.
The film comes to us from Netflix and their indulging of Scorsese – a surely impossible to recuperate $160million+ budget, the impractical running time – feels like weakness, an act of desperation as they enter a make or break period of intense competition with Apple and Disney and others, who are trying to take over their turf. (Netflix have 7 films coming out in cinemas this month and all of them are less for your consideration as for that of the awards season voters.)
The Irishman is an indulgence but a worthwhile one: this is the curtain coming down not just on a number of exceptional careers but probably a whole way of making and watching movies, and it was really something. It may not be anybody's finest three and a half hours but it is what it is and should be appreciated as such. They earned your indulgence and you owe it to yourself to see them off on the big screen.
