The Irishman - Review Thread

Doomsday donny

Listen, cocksucker. Some people. Not me. Some people are saying I took a nap during the Irishman. I wanna know which scenes they claimed I slept through and the context of those scenes. If you could do that for me, it’d be a great sign of respect.

Speaking of Pacino & Pesci, why was Pesci obsessed with De Niro's daughter? Did that lead to anything? The movie almost implies Pacino was killed cause the daughter favored him over Pesci. I was literally, like, "how long was I asleep for?" When did the daughter turn into Anna Paquin? Why does Anna Pacquin look 50?

Speaking of which... why they spend $200 million on de-aging... when all they did was make De Niro look 60 in the first half, 80 throughout most of the second half and 100 at the end? Joe Pesci called him Kid throughout the movie. Shit, I hope they're calling me Kid when I'm in the retirement home. Then they cast old-ass Anna Paquin as the daughter.

The youngest person in this movie is Ray Romano and he's like 50.

Better question, why are Anna Paquin and Jesse Plemons in this movie and there's only about 3 lines between both of them? You would think actors with their reputations would have bigger parts to play.

De Niro had 4 daughters but they fixated on one of them. She's, like, 10-years-old for a bulk of the movie and then suddenly she's 50-year-old Anna Paquin. I thought that was Pacino's wife, for a moment.



Meth Damon plays the same character in everything I've seen him in. And he was supposed to be Pacino's son or something? Did I get that right? Meth Damon? Really?

There's no evidence of that. Hoffa's last whereabouts was using a payphone at 4pm, outside a restaurant. Every mobster has a different version of how he died and all of them were disproven.

Meth Damon is just there to pad the runtime with a Family Guy style gag about a fish.

Joker > Irishman

Here's a great interview with Scorsese about The Irishman and film in general.

Was okay. Can cgi their top lip off their bodies all you want young deniro still walks around with the tightness of an old ass man and it doesn't look great.

Not as compelling as peak Scorsese. Glad he's putting mobster movies to bed though, he's more interesting than these characters.

Give it a 7/10 and I'll prob never watch it again.

It really is staggering how good late-period Martin Scorsese has been. In the last decade, Scorsese has made a stylish horror-noir (Shutter Island), a lavish love letter to cinema and art (Hugo), a hysterically funny crime-comedy (The Wolf of Wall Street), and a probing spiritual epic (Silence). Not all of these films are equal achievements, but each was an achievement, and I'd argue the latter two are among Scorsese's best movies. How Scorsese continues to be so impressive and forward thinking a filmmaker well into his 70s I do not know, but that it's still so exciting when new Scorsese opens is a treat. Sure enough, he's closing out the 2010s with yet another masterpiece in The Irishman.

The Irishman in question is Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), a mafia hitman who, in his old age, reflects on his life and crimes, particularly his friendship with crime boss Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci) and union leader Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino).

The fact that it's Scorsese and this cast returning to the mob movie immediately conjures certain expectations which in some ways The Irishman plays into, and in some ways it doesn't. The film can certainly be outlined as a rise and fall story and the sense of fatalism which informs most crime movies is indeed present here. But there are also some crucial deviations which distinguish The Irishman within Scorsese's body of work. Gone is the intoxicating level of detail and relish of the mob lifestyle found in Goodfellas and Casino. Instead, Frank's transition to mafia hitman is so blunt and matter-of-fact that it feels inevitable. This isn't the seduction of Henry Hill or even Jordan Belfort, but something inevitable and haunting. We see Frank quickly become enamored in a world of crime and murder, but without the charm which makes mob movies so often fun. Moreover, while The Irishman has several violent set-pieces, Scorsese's approach is far more morbid. The camera will often hauntingly track through the spaces of violence, leaving the acts itself just on the outside of the frame. When violence is shown, it is presented with a brutal efficiency which is shocking and unpleasant. Most of the violence happens in a quick flash, the major exception being an extended beating witnessed by Frank's daughter, a first sin which will haunt the character and the film moving forward.

Despite Scorsese's own lineage of gangster movies, the film The Irishman feels most akin to is Once Upon a Time in America. And like Sergio Leone's final masterpiece, Scorsese does not celebrate the power and glamour of the American gangster, but reflects on a lifetime of sin and destruction. Also like Leone, Scorsese is largely interested in the moments surrounding violence than with the acts of violence itself. In his later Westerns, Leone would often spend large amounts of time clearly building to an act of violence which would only last a few seconds, and then would linger on the aftermath. Scorsese takes this idea to a new extreme in The Irishman's central set-piece. As it becomes increasingly clear that Frank will need to assassinate Jimmy Hoffa, the film spends an inordinate amount of time following Frank as he prepares, flying out to Detroit, meeting with associates, meeting with Hoffa, and luring Hoffa to his death. Then the killing is over in less than a second. We linger in the room with the body, and then follow Frank try to return as if nothing happened. This scene is at the heart of The Irishman, not only because Frank's friendship with Jimmy is so real and vividly drawn, and not only because Jimmy's murder will haunt Frank until the film's devastating final frame. Rather, this scene is a microcosm of Frank's story. An unwavering commitment to flashes of violence which destroy Frank's life before he can even register what he's done.

If anything separates The Irishman from Once Upon a Time in America, it's that the characters in The Irishman are actually likable. Where Leone saw grotesque monstrosity in the American gangster, Scorsese sees tragedy. The film never shies away from the violent consequences of the characters' actions, nor does it suggest they are deserving of forgiveness (that Peggy and Frank never reconcile is crucial), but it does treat them with empathy. Despite all the violence and suffering, the friendships between Frank, Russell, and Jimmy are genuine and heartfelt. And this leads into the films gut-wrenching final act, as those friendships fall away and Frank's lifetime of crime and abuse all catch up to him. All of the choices made easily and without hesitation suddenly come crashing down, as the film spends its final act painfully exploring the end of a life full of poor choices, none of which seemed to matter much anyway. The Irishman (and the gangster genre more generally) is imbued with death, but it's in the film's final moments that the weight of human life becomes inescapably apparent, culminating in a final image that shook me to my core.

This exploration of aging and reflecting on life certainly takes on a meta quality considering Scorsese is himself an old master reflecting on his own legacy, as is much of his cast. And in a lifetime of amazing performances from De Niro, Pacino, and Pesci, all three do some of their best work here. Pesci's performance is perhaps the most clearly remarkable, with his Russell Bellafino defined by a calmness, an even gentle quality. Russell's power is clearly conveyed, there's a quiet dignity to Pesci's performance that is worlds removed from his other collaborations with Scorsese. Pacino's performance is perhaps more in-line with what we expect from the man, but his large personality and bravado fit Jimmy Hoffa perfectly and is generally enthralling to watch. And at the center of it all is Robert De Niro, the actor who more than any other defines Scorsese's body of work. Frank Sheeran is perhaps the most unremarkable character the two have ever created together. He's really little more than a mafia thug, and that makes De Niro's work harder to appreciate. This isn't really a flashy role, but De Niro really disappears into the role. Furthermore, consider how much emotion De Niro is able to convey with the simplest of looks. Frank is not a particularly well-spoken character, but so much is articulated through De Niro's performance. These becomes all the more profound as the movie goes on and Frank weighs greater emotional pains he can't mask. The quiet sadness De Niro emanates in the film's final act is frankly staggering.

The Irishman is a Shakespearean tragedy where the fundamental flaws of a person lead to their undoing; a weighty exploration of a life full of regret and sin that was both long and yet over in an instant. Less a paint a totally joyless affair however, I must also stressed that the film is made with exceptional skill and care. Just as a story, The Irishman is deeply engaging and honestly just a lot of fun to watch. From Scorsese's stylish push-ins, to Thelma Schoonmaker's precise editing, to the dozens and dozens of tiny performance details from the film's impeccable cast, I can honestly say I was hooked the whole way through and while the film feels long in as much as it paints a full portrait of a man's life, it never drags. In classic Martin Scorsese form, the film is a deep and rewarding thematic exploration of guilt and violence wrapped in a vivid character study that is also one of the most entertaining films of the year. We're lucky to have this.

A+

Anyone that's a passionate follower of film has long heard the old adage that 1970s Hollywood was the true golden era of cinema, and in many ways that's probably true. Most of this is credited to Hollywood producers finally eschewing the old hat musicals and melodramas that the American people grew weary of in the 1960s, feeling that these hammy productions were out of touch with the radically shifting ideologies and people of the period, and as a result hired young, bold filmmakers tasked with making American cinema relevant again. Many filmmakers came out of this time, but the most notable were certainly Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Francis Ford Coppola, Brian DePalma, and Martin Scorsese. All of them had perhaps their greatest stretch of critical and commercial successes in the 1970s, but of this group only Spielberg and Scorsese continue to make impactful cinema today, and even then contemporary Spielberg is a solid but far cry from his best work. Yes, at seventy-seven years old, Martin Scorsese is still standing tall above his peers, directing bold films with his infectious characters and wildly kinetic camera movements and editing like he's in his twenties. Sometimes I don't feel like audiences appreciate Scorsese as much as they should, often ignorantly relegating him to a director of gangster pictures as if he hasn't had one of the most diverse careers of any filmmaker ever. It's no small feat to be as commercially accessible yet artistically audacious as Scorsese has been throughout his long filmography, as the venerable student of cinema has consistently balanced the two while continuing to expand his own style. Few filmmakers can boast the deep knowledge of film that Scorsese can, and it's so refreshing to see a master of his craft refusing to rest on his laurels and drub out the greatest hits that so many filmmakers in their later years often do. And yet Scorsese's latest, The Irishman, is a sort of return to the comfort zone of what he's known for: a gangster picture. And to complete this reunion, Scorsese has brought along Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci, and Harvey Keitel as if we're being transported to the eras of Mean Streets, GoodFellas, and Casino in contemporary time. While it's certainly a nostalgic choice all around for Scorsese, once again the master director has pulled no punches and brings his incredible energy and vision to a fascinating slow burn thriller that feels like familiar territory but greatly expands on the themes and characters that he made for himself portraying decades ago.

The Irishman is Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), a ruthless hitman operating mostly for the head of the Bufalino crime family, Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci). The story takes place over several decades and largely deals with Frank's interactions with union boss and famed disappearing act Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), who Frank strikes up a brotherly bond with and becomes the sort of calming presence in Hoffa's ear. This is important since Hoffa is an extremely boisterous and stubborn man, a combination that's both prosperous since his big personality has endeared him to many and gotten him to the high seat of power he sits in but also dangerous since he's now garnered unwarranted attention from competing mob men, notably Tony Provenzano (Stephen Graham). Pacino is a wonderful casting choice as Hoffa, working here with Scorsese in what is astoundingly the first time, playing the character for the big theatrics Pacino is known for and adding much needed humor to the film since De Niro and notably Pesci are playing their characters mostly straight. Hoffa's disappearance is still one of the most fascinating cold cases in American history, and Pacino's portrayal lends a lot of insight into how he became such a marked man. From his hatred to the Kennedys to his refusal to play ball with the mob who would rather see the dubious dolt who proceeded Hoffa in power, Hoffa was a man who ascended by his loud words and died by them as well, and Pacino nails the character.

It's a sprawling tale, and one that even bolstered by Scorsese's signature energy and cinematic flairs feels long at over two hundred minutes in running time, but The Irishman is also rich in depth in its exploration of the dynamic between power and the facade of dutiful loyalty that it feels justified. While these are certainly themes apparent in nearly every crime film, De Niro's Frank Sheeran is different from the bright-eyed protagonists generally featured in these movies in that he's a hitman whose moral compass is outweighed by his allegiance to the hierarchy of the mob. Sheeran is not a man of many positive qualities aside from his genuine friendships with Russell Bufalino and Hoffa, forgoing any attempts at relationships with his wife and daughters in favor of proving himself loyal to Russell's every need. He's not a man that's really even hell-bent on a quest for power or moving up in the ranks (those things come gifted to him though almost out of favors for his service), but is a man who has purpose solely through his allegiance to crime and has seen many men die due to their aspirations and wants to avoid stepping on toes at any cost. Sheeran himself isn't an overly fascinating character, but De Niro is at his acting best in the role, working his signature tough guy persona with mournful reflection and thus embodying the very themes at the heart of The Irishman. Pesci is also very strong as Bufalino, moving away from his flamboyant characters that made him famous in Raging Bull and GoodFellas for a much more subdued performance made powerful by the chilling calm that Russell carries while overseeing his crime empire. Seeing De Niro, Pacino, and Pesci exchange dialogue never loses its thrill, and it's such a fitting project for finally seeing all of them together under the watch of Scorsese. At times Scorsese lets the scenes play on for too long, especially in some exchanges between Sheeran and Hoffa that feel like Pacino is just riffing for the sake of stalling for better improvisation (this is most apparent in an odd scene where Hoffa apologizes to Sheeran for far too long), but it's also hard to justify halting the energy that the three of them bring to each moment, so I can understand why Scorsese and longtime editor Thelma Schoonmaker give the scenes more breathing room than they normally would.

For all of his merits, Scorsese would hardly be categorized as a filmmaker that utilized much in the way of visual effects despite helming the 3-D shot Hugo earlier this decade, but much of the hype surrounding The Irishman centered around just that. Instead of casting other actors to play the younger versions of Sheeran, Bufalino, and Hoffa, the film employs a sort of "de-aging" CGI that softens the actors' features and gives them a glossier, youthful look. I'll admit that this experiment is not an entirely successful one. The CGI is very noticeable while also not being entirely effective. Even when De Niro is a face full of CGI, I never felt that he was entirely younger looking. The actors do their best to attempt to alleviate the notion of their real ages in these earlier scenes, but the magic trick doesn't fully work. The closeups are glossy and obviously computerized, and the wide shots comprised of action (notably when Sheeran beats up a man on the street) betray the actors to show the physical movements of men in their seventies. Still, I think the idea to have the three actors play these characters throughout the entirety of the film was the correct one, and the performances are so fantastic that eventually you get used to everything and acclimate to the CGI. An interesting idea that down the road will work, but right now we aren't there technology wise to truly make this movie magic a total success.

The Irishman is yet another high achievement from Martin Scorsese, directing with the same vigor and craftsmanship that he always has. The film contains all of the signature trademarks of the venerable filmmaker from expressive camera moves, sharply designed characters, dense narrative, period soundtrack, and an incredible cast at the center of it all that add up to a fantastic cinematic experience. Despite working in a familiar genre, Scorsese has once again breathed life into the crime epic and this time around offers his most mature exploration of the cycle that violence and power culminate in yet. While it doesn't quite reach the heights of Scorsese's big three (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, GoodFellas), it's also the director at his wisest and most reflective artistically, following in the footsteps of his previous (and under appreciated) feature, Silence. Scorsese has accomplished so much in his distinguished career and there are certainly even more films from him to come, but The Irishman may end up being his most fitting in his later years, working with the greatest overall cast he's ever assembled and returning to his gangster picture roots that somehow feels just as fresh as when Mean Streets burst onto the scene in 1973. Few filmmakers can claim that they were still making films in their seventies, let alone still putting out compelling work that shows not only no signs of slowing down, but still much more exciting projects to come. Martin Scorsese was once a filmmaker among peers, but it's clear that he's not only outlasted his contemporaries but is still one of the most important and fascinating voices in cinema today.

9/10