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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