The Irishman (2019) ****1/2
I am so very glad that I made the trek to see The Irishman (2019) in a theater (in particular, one with a history and one that cares deeply about presentation, The Coolidge Corner Theatre) for it was well worth the Friday night traffic that I sat in and the hour and a half long drive in to Boston. I'm also glad that, at 3 1/2 hours long, the film never felt bloated. Finally, I'm amazed (and thankful, as I didn't want to miss a second) that I didn't have to get up to go to the bathroom once (and somehow still didn't have to until I arrived back home after midnight).
With The Irishman (titled on screen as I Heard You Paint Houses, the name of the 2004 book that this film is based on), Martin Scorsese has made yet another masterpiece in a career full of them. While it absolutely has many parallels to his other mob epics, GoodFellas (1990) and Casino (1995) (my review here), it's no carbon copy. It's a less showy affair—a more sprawling film in line with Sergio Leone's Once Upon A Time In America (1984), also starring Robert De Niro (and a point can be made that both his character from that film, Noodles, and real-life character, Frank Sheeran, from The Irishman, commit atrocious and unforgivable acts of betrayal).
De Niro, Pacino and Pesci's performances are all uniformly excellent. We're so lucky that Scorsese was able to convince Pesci to come out of retirement after being turned down numerous times—his persistence paid off. It still blows my mind that this is the first time that Pacino and Scorsese have teamed up. He has his BIG AL PACINO moments but it works here when you're dealing with a legendary figure like Jimmy Hoffa. Stephen Graham is very good, again playing a character based on a real life mobster, as he did on Boardwalk Empire (2010–2014) (on that show it was Al Capone). In fact, The Irishman is a bit of a Boardwalk reunion, featuring something like 10 of the actors from the show.
Graham provides much of the film's comic relief, as the contentious relationship between his Anthony Provenzano and Pacino's Hoffa plays out. And there are a lot of funny moments in Irishman, thanks to Steven Zaillian's excellent script. I will say that I felt Anna Paquin and Jesse Plemons were completely wasted in their roles, barely given any screen time or much dialogue to deliver. Other big name actors like Harvey Keitel and Bobby Cannavale fair better but are still underutilized, in my opinion.
At first I thought the last part of the film, where the music completely drops out for a long stretch, was perhaps a bit too drawn out and changed the tone of the film, but I think on reflection (and I'm sure, upon a rewatch) it became more apparent to me that The Irishman was leading us there the whole time. A lot of the credit for the film's pace and flow should go to expert editor Thelma Schoonmaker. Rather than portray the glitz and glam of gangster life, as Scorsese has before, we see a man who eventually loses everything and will die alone, the consequences of being a violent man who somehow managed not to get bumped off himself.
In that way The Irishman's rumination on aging and dying are profound. I'm ecstatic that—at least upon this first viewing—the digital de-aging process applied to the actors (which received a fair amount of press coverage) didn't detract from my viewing experience and was, all in all, seamless. Only time will tell if that becomes a technique that dates or harms the film in the future.
Scorsese has proven to us that he is still the king of the mob movie, even when delivering a film that feels fresh—one that utilizes current technology while at the same time remaining reverent to the craft and tradition of the type of filmmaking that he grew up with and has so much passion for. He's not afraid to tread familiar ground, yet show a maturity—much in the same way that Akira Kurosawa did in his later years.
Seeing The Irishman on opening night with a sold out (and respectful!) audience truly felt special. Hearing everyone laugh and gasp at the appropriate times was akin to the communal experience on display in Giuseppe Tornatore's beautiful film Cinema Paradiso (1988) (my review here). At one point I gazed slightly down in front and to my sides just to appreciate the enraptured faces—taking in a piece of art—all around me. While there is no denying the convenience of watching a movie at home on Netflix, there is nothing that matches the magic of viewing a masterly film on a large, properly calibrated screen with good loud sound in a theater full of cinema lovers.
You can find my Martin Scorsese Feature Films Ranked list here.
With The Irishman (titled on screen as I Heard You Paint Houses, the name of the 2004 book that this film is based on), Martin Scorsese has made yet another masterpiece in a career full of them. While it absolutely has many parallels to his other mob epics, GoodFellas (1990) and Casino (1995) (my review here), it's no carbon copy. It's a less showy affair—a more sprawling film in line with Sergio Leone's Once Upon A Time In America (1984), also starring Robert De Niro (and a point can be made that both his character from that film, Noodles, and real-life character, Frank Sheeran, from The Irishman, commit atrocious and unforgivable acts of betrayal).
De Niro, Pacino and Pesci's performances are all uniformly excellent. We're so lucky that Scorsese was able to convince Pesci to come out of retirement after being turned down numerous times—his persistence paid off. It still blows my mind that this is the first time that Pacino and Scorsese have teamed up. He has his BIG AL PACINO moments but it works here when you're dealing with a legendary figure like Jimmy Hoffa. Stephen Graham is very good, again playing a character based on a real life mobster, as he did on Boardwalk Empire (2010–2014) (on that show it was Al Capone). In fact, The Irishman is a bit of a Boardwalk reunion, featuring something like 10 of the actors from the show.
Graham provides much of the film's comic relief, as the contentious relationship between his Anthony Provenzano and Pacino's Hoffa plays out. And there are a lot of funny moments in Irishman, thanks to Steven Zaillian's excellent script. I will say that I felt Anna Paquin and Jesse Plemons were completely wasted in their roles, barely given any screen time or much dialogue to deliver. Other big name actors like Harvey Keitel and Bobby Cannavale fair better but are still underutilized, in my opinion.
At first I thought the last part of the film, where the music completely drops out for a long stretch, was perhaps a bit too drawn out and changed the tone of the film, but I think on reflection (and I'm sure, upon a rewatch) it became more apparent to me that The Irishman was leading us there the whole time. A lot of the credit for the film's pace and flow should go to expert editor Thelma Schoonmaker. Rather than portray the glitz and glam of gangster life, as Scorsese has before, we see a man who eventually loses everything and will die alone, the consequences of being a violent man who somehow managed not to get bumped off himself.
In that way The Irishman's rumination on aging and dying are profound. I'm ecstatic that—at least upon this first viewing—the digital de-aging process applied to the actors (which received a fair amount of press coverage) didn't detract from my viewing experience and was, all in all, seamless. Only time will tell if that becomes a technique that dates or harms the film in the future.
Scorsese has proven to us that he is still the king of the mob movie, even when delivering a film that feels fresh—one that utilizes current technology while at the same time remaining reverent to the craft and tradition of the type of filmmaking that he grew up with and has so much passion for. He's not afraid to tread familiar ground, yet show a maturity—much in the same way that Akira Kurosawa did in his later years.
Seeing The Irishman on opening night with a sold out (and respectful!) audience truly felt special. Hearing everyone laugh and gasp at the appropriate times was akin to the communal experience on display in Giuseppe Tornatore's beautiful film Cinema Paradiso (1988) (my review here). At one point I gazed slightly down in front and to my sides just to appreciate the enraptured faces—taking in a piece of art—all around me. While there is no denying the convenience of watching a movie at home on Netflix, there is nothing that matches the magic of viewing a masterly film on a large, properly calibrated screen with good loud sound in a theater full of cinema lovers.
You can find my Martin Scorsese Feature Films Ranked list here.
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