Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay [NOTE: Follow the link here to read “Part One” of this blog.] The Aviator (2004)
I have a theory. Some of the best directors in cinematic history, like Spielberg or Scorsese, reach a point in their filmmaking careers where the audience expects greatness whenever they make a movie. As a result, even if the movie is fantastic it can often be more mildly received in comparison to the “instant classics” that came before. Subsequently, that fantastic flick can easily blur into the background of their filmography to the point that it tends to get almost forgotten about in five years or less. If my theory is correct, then these next four Scorsese movies (maybe with the exception of one) aren’t often talked about as some of his best. But, in my humble opinion, they are. Let’s start with The Aviator, a historical biopic starring Leonardo DiCaprio (in his second collaboration with Scorsese following Gangs of New York) as the early-20th century entrepreneur Howard Hughes. Knowing very little about the subject matter (including the subject himself), I went in pretty cold to this film and was pretty stunned by the end. However, it wasn’t the kind of cathartic experience I get watching a psychological drama like Taxi Driver or a violent crime saga in the vein of Goodfellas. At the same time, though, there’s an impressive nature to the craft on display in The Aviator that most filmmakers never quiet achieve in their careers. And yet, nearly four decades into his career by this point, Scorsese hits that mark of greatness so effortlessly. Admittedly, The Aviator is not my absolute favorite of his films. Mainly because there isn’t much specific about it that draws me back into watching it. But that doesn’t diminish how good of a move it is. In my humble opinion, the standout is DiCaprio’s central performance. While he relies on his signature charm & winning personality that he uses in many of his roles, I appreciated how unlikeable Hughes ends up being. While he’s sympathetic due to his struggle with OCD, much of his “fall from grace” comes about as the result of his poor decisions regarding his investments and personal relationships. And DiCaprio does a surprisingly good job at playing a character that is never fully good or bad; he’s just human. On that note, the film is also not the traditional biopic in some important aspects. Notably, writer John Logan makes the bold yet impactful creative decision to end the story on a bittersweet note with Hughes still struggling with his mental health and lacking any genuinely helpful outlet for it. Despite trying to find comfort and stability in his various business ventures, his life remains unfulfilling and he never truly redeems himself or rights the wrongs that he’s committed over the course of the nearly three-hour runtime. At a time when so many biopics try to make you fall in love with the protagonist after seeing their downfall, I respect & appreciate Scorsese’s direction that allowed the audience to see Hughes for something more akin to a real person. Is The Aviator a modern classic or a powerful commentary about mental health? I don’t think so, but it’s an exceptionally well-made film that immerses you in that time period and the intricacies of Hughes’ eccentric and unfortunate life. Again, it isn’t my favorite Scorsese flick but it’s a pretty damn good one. Hugo (2011) I don’t think anybody would be surprised to learn that Scorsese doesn’t really make family-friendly movies. Thus, many of his fans (or just movie lovers in general) may have completely overlooked the Best Picture nominee Hugo for just that reason. Which I think is a crying shame because it’s a really heartwarming movie without being overly sappy or sentimental (a difficult balancing act for any filmmaker). Watching the first half of Hugo would convince any viewer that it’s a spirited adventure movie centered on the burgeoning friendship between the orphaned wannabe clockmaker Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) and a toymaker’s goddaughter Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz). And that would be a fair assessment. It may also explain why those who tend to gravitate to Scorsese’s style of filmmaking avoided this one. But, if you go into this movie not expecting a typical Scorsese movie than I think you’re more likely to enjoy it than not. I was particularly impressed by the performances & chemistry of the two child leads. While I’ve seen Moretz shine in some roles later in life (The Miseducation of Cameron Post and Nimona stick out in particular), I’m always taken aback by younger actors who excel in a dramatic story even if their role isn’t particularly dramatic. But what really makes Hugo great in my mind is how Ben Kingsley emerges as the “secret protagonist” in the second half. Playing Moretz’s elderly godfather, his character is revealed to be the innovative French director Georges Méliès who made some of the most important movies (A Trip to the Moon and The Impossible Voyage) in the early days of cinema. Essentially, once Kingsley’s performance dominates the runtime Hugo turns from a child-focused whimsical adventure to a celebration of film history (very much inspired by Scorsese’s own dedication to the preservation of cinema) it is elevated to one of Scorsese’s better modern movies. And I think that’s because Scorsese (alongside writer John Logan) treat the narrative as mature and emotionally complex despite starring children and being a film that kids can watch & enjoy. For Kingsley’s take on Méliès confronting his own legacy and place in history while realizing that some people out in the world have not forgotten him nor his contributions to cinema. Simply put, Hugo is an undemanding and lighthearted movie that isn’t trying to stir controversy or explore the darkest depths of the human psyche. In that sense, it’s a very different movie for Scorsese. In a different sense, though, it comes straight from Scorsese’s heart as a man in the latter years of his filmmaking career honoring the contributions of those who came first as a way to help the audience fall in love with the movies all over again. I think there’s perhaps no higher aspiration for an artist than to tell a story that reminds the person consuming that art why they love it in the first place. The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) Even if you’re not the biggest fan of the last twenty or so years of Scorsese’s directing career, I think you have to agree that there is one movie he’s made in this century that has stood the test of time and cemented itself as not only a modern classic but one of Scorsese’s best movies to date. And it’s not The Irishman. 😊 Three years after his fourth collaboration with Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio takes center stage as former stockbroker, financial criminal, and current motivational speaker/author Jordan Belfort to tell another impeccable “rise and fall” story that (shockingly) competes with Goodfellas. With the grimy and corrupt world of Wall Street as his backdrop, Scorsese weaves a big-budget cinematic epic that also remains one of the best black comedy movies ever made. Its unabashed embrace of raunch in portraying the surreal antics of filthy rich bastards with such creativity and artistry makes The Wolf of Wall Street (in my humble opinion) an absolutely fantastic movie. Of course, I can’t share my love of this movie without highlighting DiCaprio first and foremost. As the leading man/unreliable narrator Belfort himself, he takes everything that audiences love about him and makes it slimy. From his disarming good looks to his ineffable charm, DiCaprio leans into his star-studded image to craft an almost unbelievably scummy financial magnate who takes advantage of virtually everybody in his life. Within the immense three-hour runtime of the film, DiCaprio squeezes every ounce of charisma out of his performance to ensure the audience stays on his side for as long as possible. And then the narrative hits a point that you can’t help but laugh at his expense rather than alongside him…and it’s so satisfying when that happens (if you’ve seen the movie, you know the scene I’m referring to). Fortunately, Scorsese assembled such an outstanding cast for this film that DiCaprio is elevated & propped up by so many great characters. While there are several actors worth spotlighting, there are three I want to focus my love on (in no particular order). Unlike some of his prior roles in more straight-up comedies like Superbad and 21 Jump Street, Jonah Hill builds off of his dramatic chops from movies like Moneyball as Belfort’s best friend and business partner Donnie Azoff. Not only is his physical comedy throughout predictably excellent, but his line delivery is pitch-perfect from start to finish. Another noteworthy supporting performance comes from an (at the time) relative newcomer to Hollywood: the Australian actress/producer Margot Robbie. While her undeniable physical beauty contributes to making her an excellent leading lady, Robbie approaches the character of Naomi (Belfort’s second wife) with such humanity. In other words, she elevates Naomi to a three-dimensional woman who suffers emotional & domestic abuse but stands up for herself while also having severe characters flaws independent of her relationship with Belfort. Simply put, this role put Robbie on the map & I think the movies are all the better for it. Arguably the most memorably supporting role, however, is portrayed by none other than Matthew McConaughey who utterly maximizes the little screen time he gets with one of the best bits of acting that Scorsese has ever captured with a camera (again, if you’ve seen the film you know the scene). Despite his lack of significant screen presence, McConaughey’s Mark Hanna arguably serves as the inciting event of the film as Belfort’s first mentor who gives him the knowledge & tools he needs to succeed on Wall Street (but also spiral downward in a haze of drugs, sex, and moral corruption). Like any Scorsese flick, however, the accomplishments of those behind the camera are just as important as the performances of the actors being filmed. With any great movie, the foundation of its greatness can be found in the screenplay. And Terence Winter’s Oscar-nominated script brings to life Belfort’s time on Wall Street scamming thousands of regular people with a breathtaking degree of care. His story never gets completely lost in the “high-life” experiences of the victimizers because it remains grounded by the federal government’s efforts to nail Belfort and his cronies and serve righteous justice to these white-collar criminals. Equal to Winter’s screenplay is Thelma Schoonmaker’s editing which does an excellent job of pacing a three-hour film by using the cuts and camerawork to humorous, dramatic, and cathartic effect in a perfectly balanced triad. Her technical prowess is emblematic of all the behind-the-scenes work that deserves more praise than movies typically get, because the work they did to bring Scorsese’s vision to life allowed The Wolf of Wall Street to represent Scorsese at the top of his game. It’s unforgettable in the best ways, and sometimes I even consider it better than Goodfellas. Even the fact that it hits that level proves to me that it’s easily one of Scorsese’s best films while also cementing its status as one of the greatest movies of this century. Silence (2016) Sandwiched in between the insane black comedy The Wolf of Wall Street and the epic gangster drama The Irishman is a Scorsese movie that might just be his most underrated modern movie to date. It doesn’t involve any of his “go-to” actors & actresses, which I can see some fans of his being turned off by. Yet it features two of the best younger actors of their generation in the leading roles with some great supporting performances. Furthermore, it’s one of Scorsese’s most beautifully shot films that fully embraces the natural & political environment of its setting to tell an intimate, meditative, and thought-provoking story about faith. Unlike The Last Temptation of Christ, Scorsese’s first major thematic exploration of religion, Silence lets the character-driven narrative propel its examination of ideas rather than the inverse. And it does so by ignoring many of Scorsese’s signature cinematic tricks (namely, the kinetic soundtrack cues and the reliance on performances toying with melodrama). The film’s two lead roles, Sebastião Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Franciso Garupe (Adam Driver), are anything but overly dramatic. They are very restrained, which greatly reflects the tone of the movie as a whole. And this approach works for this kind of story that isn’t focused on over-the-top action set pieces or orgies on a plane. Rather, Garfield and Driver make up the heart & soul of Silence that is an intimate character study about two Jesuit priests trying to find their missing mentor Cristóvão Ferreira (Liam Neeson) while also spreading Catholicism to the native Japanese with the help of a converted man Kichijirō (Yōsuke Kubozuka). And they do so incredibly well (Garfield in particular). But, in my humble opinion, the most prominent hero of Silence is cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto. His eye for angles and lighting beautifully captures the natural landscape, rural villages, and Tokugawa-era iconography of Japan. It brings this time & place to life for a Western audience that is mostly unfamiliar with this history of Christian persecution in East Asia. Prieto’s gorgeous work earned an Oscar nomination and easily should’ve won (sorry, La La Land) because it’s some of the best cinematography that I’ve seen in any Scorsese movie. It may not be his most iconic, entertaining, or fun movie, but Silence is a masterful exploration of faith that, to my surprise, was utterly engrossing. The violence on display is punctuated due to how Scorsese restrains it for dramatic effect, but the most meaningful aspect of the movie is how it offers differing perspectives on some of the biggest questions of the human experience without harshly judging those willing to find answers peacefully. Conclusion I hope I’ve convinced you that Martin Scorsese is one of the greatest living filmmakers (and arguably one of the greatest of all time). Hopefully, you didn’t need to read this two-part blog to be convinced of that. Just watching a small selection of his movies will be more than enough evidence to sway you. With all that being said, here is the official ranking of my ten favorite Martin Scorsese films (not including Killers of the Flower Moon…because I haven’t seen it yet 😊):
What is your favorite Martin Scorsese film? Is there a movie of his that you feel is massively underrated or overrated? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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In my humble opinion, there are very few filmmakers living today that can earnestly claim the mantle of the one of the best of all time (let alone the best). Two years ago, I celebrated my favorite selections from the extensive filmography of one of them: Steven Spielberg (in two parts!). Now, with the release of his star-studded Western crime epic Killers of the Flower Moon imminent, I found it no better time than to shine a spotlight on another living director whose decades-spanning body of work earns some consideration as the GOAT of modern cinema. Before going forward, I freely admit that all of these movies deserve a blog of their own (and perhaps someday will get that). For now, though, I aim not to offer a comprehensive analysis of these eight movies but rather proliferate my love for them without getting bogged down in the minutiae. That being said, I think it’s safe to say without a doubt that Martin Scorsese is one of the greatest filmmakers of all time. Why? I guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😉 Taxi Driver (1976) By 1976, Martin Scorsese had already spent nearly ten years earning acclaim as a director. However, he was still trying to make a name for himself with movies like Who’s That Knocking at My Door? (his directorial debut) and the Oscar-nominated Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore. Many film historians and cinephiles would contend that his 1973 crime drama Mean Streets is his first truly great movie. I disagree. That honor, in my humble opinion, belongs to the psychological thriller Taxi Driver. Let me explain why. Admittedly, Robert de Niro’s first of many collaborations with Scorsese came in Mean Streets. And he was good in that movie. However, I think it’s hard to argue that his turn as the mentally disturbed veteran/taxi driver Travis Bickle should be recognized as one of his best performances to date. From this artistically fruitful collaboration between de Niro, and Scorsese, one of the most awfully compelling protagonists in modern film history was born. Of course, you don’t get the heart of de Niro’s Bickle without the masterful screenplay by Paul Schrader (a prolific director in his own right). Simply put, the way that Schrader’s narrative and dialogue combine with the actors’ screen presence and chemistry with one another absorbs the audience in his gritty, disturbing version of contemporary New York City. Furthermore, his ability as a writer to engross the audience in every thought, line, and action of morally compromised people like the pimp “Sport” (Harvey Keitel) and the child prostitute Iris (Jodie Foster) makes a great artistic partner with Scorsese’s eye for visual characterization. When all of these elements come together, they produce a masterpiece of cinema. Taxi Driver is not only a signature of the low-budget character studies from the “New Hollywood” generation. But it remains a powerful meditation on the degradation of loneliness, the complex layers of masculinity, and the destructive nature of violence. As such, I think it’s hard to deny that it remains one of Scorsese’s best. If you ask me, though, it was his first truly great movie. The King of Comedy (1983) For my thoughts on this film within the broader subgenre of black comedy, click here. Only a few years after his Best Picture-nominated sports drama Raging Bull, Scorsese did anything but give away his artistic discretion to mainstream interest. In fact, he did the opposite: he made a film so insanely against the grain of acceptability that it was pulled from cinemas a month after its release (making it a box-office flop). In spite of all the mixed reactions it received at the time that it came out, The King of Comedy remains one of my favorite Scorsese movies. Again, you cannot discuss a Scorsese flick without highlighting the incredible work of his lead performer. What I find most admirable about Robert de Niro in The King of Comedy is how it’s very different than his previous roles like it. While there are some similarities to be drawn between the disturbed Travis Bickle or the megalomaniacal Jake LaMotta, the character he plays here (the wannabe stand-up comic/psychopath Rupert Pupkin) is noticeably very different. If you ask me, de Niro’s turn as Pupkin is actually the standout of all of his performances in any Scorsese movie that I’ve seen. At the very least, though, it’s easily his most underrated leading performance. By injecting so much charm and life into the writing of Paul Zimmerman, de Niro turns Pupkin’s amazingly psychotic personality into the bedrock of one of Scorsese’s best protagonists ever filmed for the silver screen. I would also contend, though, that the unsung hero of this underdog flick (yes, more so than de Niro’s acting) is the striking framing & lighting choices of cinematographer Fred Schuler. A relatively unknown name in his own right, Schuler (in collaboration with Scorsese’s direction) fully maximizes the camera as a way to reflect on Pupkin’s unsettling psyche by using long, static takes to inject uneasiness into the scenes focused on dissecting the protagonist’s unstable mind (namely during his time spent in his mother’s basement relishing in delusions of grandeur). All in all, The King of Comedy more than deserves its status as a “cult classic” but rightfully deserves higher praise in the echelons of Scorsese’s body of work. On top of being a sadly relevant examination of the toxicity of celebrity that is so central to America’s media-driven culture, it’s also a genuinely hilarious movie that mixes suspense and cringe humor to powerful effect. It’s just as daring as Taxi Driver (if not more so), not due to its thematic use of violence but in how it boldly challenges the viewer to fall in love with a narcissistic yet sympathetic stalker. Goodfellas (1990) It’s hard to deny that Goodfellas is Martin Scorsese’s crowning achievement. Some of his other movies might be more fun, while others arguably have better writing & acting. Nevertheless, Goodfellas remains Scorsese’s magnum opus as (in my humble opinion) the definitive “rise and fall” movie that combines the best of what he has to offer as a director into an incredible concoction of cinematic magic. Again, one can’t celebrate the brilliance that so many of Scorsese’s movies possess without highlighting the jaw-dropping performances that he gets from his actors. Admittedly, I’m not super well-versed in the filmography of the late Ray Liotta (although I did enjoy him a good bit in Elizabeth Banks’ Cocaine Bear that came out earlier this year). That being said, how can you say that his turn as lead gangster Henry Hill in Goodfellas isn’t his best performance? The way that, through both his physical presence and narration, he invokes such intense sympathy from the audience despite becoming more despicable and pitiful as the narrative progresses. By the end, however, there’s a tinge of heartbreak in just how tragic his ending is but not because he failed to redeem himself or turn over a new leaf. Quite the opposite; Scorsese’s direction (along with Liotta’s performance) helps the viewer actually buy into Hill’s disappointment with no longer living the life of a “wise guy.” Simply put, Liotta is asked to make a rather unlikeable person the charming protagonist of a crime epic and does so nearly flawlessly. And yet, somehow, Liotta puts in the second-best performance in Goodfellas. Without a doubt, he is justifiably overshadowed by the impeccable talents of Joe Pesci (a semi-frequent Scorsese collaborator) in the role of Tommy DeVito. He steals every single scene he’s in thanks to his outgoing and boisterously obnoxious (yet somehow endearing) personality on display. Not only does he dominate the screen when working with Liotta, but even Robert de Niro himself can’t keep Pesci from absorbing the entire audience with whatever he’s doing. From the iconic “funny how?” scene in the restaurant to the incredibly petty violence he commits against Billy Batts (Frank Vincent), Tommy remains one of Scorsese’s most iconic characters and more than earned Pesci’s only Oscar (HOW DID HE NOT WIN FOR The Irishman?!?). If you ask me, Goodfellas is indeed Joe Pesci’s best performance ever captured on film. And thankfully it was because it elevates the movie to a whole other level. To reiterate what I said in the beginning, every movie in this blog deserves its own blog and that is no less true for Goodfellas. In fact, I could write over a dozen paragraphs about just the editing alone. Because Thelma Schoonmaker’s work as the editor of Goodfellas remains some of the best ever utilized for the silver screen. She perfectly embodies the idea of “ordered chaos” in how she elegantly paces this two-and-a-half-hour crime epic that always feels fast & intense while never failing to elevate the more dramatic & deliberately slow moments. Just the intercutting in the climactic “helicopter scene” alone is a brilliant exercise in slowly ramping up tension and delivering incredibly payoff. The fact that she didn’t win an Oscar is also a disgrace (no offense, Dances with Wolves). I haven’t said anything about Goodfellas that hasn’t been said already. The writing is great. The acting is great. The directing is great. The editing is great. Everything about it is pretty damn awesome. Admittedly, there are some Scorsese movies I’d rather rewatch just because I’ve seen Goodfellas so many times. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s easily one of his best & undoubtedly one of the best gangster flicks ever made. Cape Fear (1991) One year after the release of his Best Picture nominee Goodfellas, Scorsese decided to make a pulpy thriller (itself a remake of a 1960s movie starring Gregory Peck). The fil stars Robert de Niro playing a smooth-talking psychopath recently out of prison who, thirsting for revenge against his shoddy defense, devotes his life to terrorizing his lawyer’s family. Is Cape Fear a masterpiece? No, but it’s a thoroughly entertaining movie & I respect Scorsese for going in such a different direction in the wake of Goodfellas. Much like The King of Comedy, the major standout in this movie is de Niro’s acting. Somehow, he’s managed to portray four very different murderous psychos in four different Scorsese flicks. Whereas Travis Bickle is anti-social, isolated & brooding, Rupert Pupkin is charming & conniving. And despite his character Jimmy Conway in Goodfellas being ruthless yet restrained and smart, Max Cady (the character he plays in Cape Fear) is outlandish in how crazy he is despite also possessing a subversive amount of emotional intelligence that’s evident whenever he torments his lawyer Sam Bowden’s (Nick Nolte) family. Simply put, the comically sadistic persona that de Niro fully embraces from start to finish makes the film a rollicking good time. As a whole, there’s not much to say about Cape Fear. It’s by no means a film you study critically by picking apart every frame or scene of, but it doesn’t need to be. By expertly balancing potentially jarring tonal shifts with some over-the-top performances and melodramatic moments, it’s a really fun movie that works surprisingly well. I was shocked by how playful it was given the premise, but by the end it worked because the movie never takes itself too seriously. In my humble opinion, this shows just how talented Scorsese’s directing is. Despite how prestigious of a career he had by this time, he still wasn’t taking himself or his work too seriously to its own detriment. Which is why Cape Fear remains one of my favorite movies from him. And there’s many more great films to come. TO BE CONTINUED…
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Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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