The Irishman
2.5/4
Starring: Robert DeNiro, Joe Pesci, Al Pacino, Ray Romano, Stephen Graham
Rated R for Pervasive Language and Strong Violence
Robert DeNiro. Al Pacino. Martin Scorcese.
I was sold right there. With that level of talent, any studio executive worth his two cents would hand Marty a blank check and say "I'll sign." No questions asked. Two of cinema's biggest legends and one of the greatest filmmakers who ever went behind the camera collaborating on a single movie. How could it go wrong? Yet...it does.
Let me assuage my conscience right away. "The Irishman" is not a bad movie. There is too much talent involved to make a movie that would even sniff someone's Bottom 10 list. But it is disappointing. The film is a confused mess where the characters and how they relate to each other are not sharply defined. Scorcese is no stranger to epics, but maybe his vision exceeded his grasp. Perhaps this story, as he conceived it, is simply unfilmmable. Because if there is anyone who can tackle tricky material, it's him.
A lot of the hype surrounding the film is centered on Frank Sheeran (DeNiro) and his alleged involvement in the slaying of Teamsters founder Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino). That is certainly true to an extent, but really, this is a biopic of Sheeran himself. He's a low level flunkie who, through coincidence and chance, becomes a hired hitter for mobster Russell Bufalino (Pesci) and works his way up to being the liaison between Bufalino and the rest of the mobsters and Hoffa, all of whom entered into a symbiotic relationship of sorts, until things went sour.
I had to ask myself what went wrong with this film. Certainly is the film's structure is unwieldy. Scorcese elects to tell the majority of the film as a flashback within a flashback, something that would try the talents of any filmmaker. Sheeran narrates the story in the "present," which is in late 2003 when Sheeran lived in a nursing home until his death. The first level of flashback what turns out to be the days leading up to his fateful encounter with Hoffa. But the bulk of the movie is his life story which is intercut with that. Truth be told, it's more complicated than it needs to be. The scenes involving the elderly Frank Sheeran were only necessary at the end of the film.
Another problem is that Frank is the only three-dimensional human being in this film. He's a little slow, a little bit dumb, but loyal and does what he's told. DeNiro gets to show again just how good of an actor he is. He looks and sounds like the DeNiro we know, but we see only Frank Sheeran. Submerging his considerable presence and persona into a character is extremely difficult, but he's always at the top of his game when working with his good friend Martin Scorcese (it's the first time they've worked together since "Casino" in 1995, although it wasn't not for lack of trying). DeNiro hasn't been this good in years. Everyone else is a stick figure. They can be defined by one single trait, and we rarely understand who these people are and how they really relate to each other. That doesn't mean they aren't well acted, however. Special mention has to go to an out-of-retirement Joe Pesci (who is uncharacteristically low key) and Anna Paquin, whose expressive face speaks volumes.
This is the first teaming of Al Pacino and Scorcese, and while everyone is wondering how it could have taken so long for these legends to collaborate (Pacino was offered DeNiro's role in "Goodfellas," but turned it down, a decision he later regretted), my answer is that it should have taken longer. Pacino is miscast as the tough labor leader. Pacino gives it his all and we eventually accept him as the feisty Hoffa, but there is no denying that he is miscast.
Such flaws, troublesome as they are, do not satisfy me. My feelings run deeper than that. What is truly missing from this film is the energy. Martin Scorcese movies are so filled with life and energy that they wholly absorb you. They are made with love for cinema and life itself. The red-blooded richness that is emblematic of a Scorcese picture just isn't here. There isn't any passion. It's a cold and dry film, which is something not typically associated with him.
I feel let down. So much talent. So much promise. So much hype. And we're left with...this. I won't call this movie terrible, as it is never boring and there are scenes of real power, particularly the end, which is particularly poignant). But it is a disappointment. I expected more from these people.
Starring: Robert DeNiro, Joe Pesci, Al Pacino, Ray Romano, Stephen Graham
Rated R for Pervasive Language and Strong Violence
Robert DeNiro. Al Pacino. Martin Scorcese.
I was sold right there. With that level of talent, any studio executive worth his two cents would hand Marty a blank check and say "I'll sign." No questions asked. Two of cinema's biggest legends and one of the greatest filmmakers who ever went behind the camera collaborating on a single movie. How could it go wrong? Yet...it does.
Let me assuage my conscience right away. "The Irishman" is not a bad movie. There is too much talent involved to make a movie that would even sniff someone's Bottom 10 list. But it is disappointing. The film is a confused mess where the characters and how they relate to each other are not sharply defined. Scorcese is no stranger to epics, but maybe his vision exceeded his grasp. Perhaps this story, as he conceived it, is simply unfilmmable. Because if there is anyone who can tackle tricky material, it's him.
A lot of the hype surrounding the film is centered on Frank Sheeran (DeNiro) and his alleged involvement in the slaying of Teamsters founder Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino). That is certainly true to an extent, but really, this is a biopic of Sheeran himself. He's a low level flunkie who, through coincidence and chance, becomes a hired hitter for mobster Russell Bufalino (Pesci) and works his way up to being the liaison between Bufalino and the rest of the mobsters and Hoffa, all of whom entered into a symbiotic relationship of sorts, until things went sour.
I had to ask myself what went wrong with this film. Certainly is the film's structure is unwieldy. Scorcese elects to tell the majority of the film as a flashback within a flashback, something that would try the talents of any filmmaker. Sheeran narrates the story in the "present," which is in late 2003 when Sheeran lived in a nursing home until his death. The first level of flashback what turns out to be the days leading up to his fateful encounter with Hoffa. But the bulk of the movie is his life story which is intercut with that. Truth be told, it's more complicated than it needs to be. The scenes involving the elderly Frank Sheeran were only necessary at the end of the film.
Another problem is that Frank is the only three-dimensional human being in this film. He's a little slow, a little bit dumb, but loyal and does what he's told. DeNiro gets to show again just how good of an actor he is. He looks and sounds like the DeNiro we know, but we see only Frank Sheeran. Submerging his considerable presence and persona into a character is extremely difficult, but he's always at the top of his game when working with his good friend Martin Scorcese (it's the first time they've worked together since "Casino" in 1995, although it wasn't not for lack of trying). DeNiro hasn't been this good in years. Everyone else is a stick figure. They can be defined by one single trait, and we rarely understand who these people are and how they really relate to each other. That doesn't mean they aren't well acted, however. Special mention has to go to an out-of-retirement Joe Pesci (who is uncharacteristically low key) and Anna Paquin, whose expressive face speaks volumes.
This is the first teaming of Al Pacino and Scorcese, and while everyone is wondering how it could have taken so long for these legends to collaborate (Pacino was offered DeNiro's role in "Goodfellas," but turned it down, a decision he later regretted), my answer is that it should have taken longer. Pacino is miscast as the tough labor leader. Pacino gives it his all and we eventually accept him as the feisty Hoffa, but there is no denying that he is miscast.
Such flaws, troublesome as they are, do not satisfy me. My feelings run deeper than that. What is truly missing from this film is the energy. Martin Scorcese movies are so filled with life and energy that they wholly absorb you. They are made with love for cinema and life itself. The red-blooded richness that is emblematic of a Scorcese picture just isn't here. There isn't any passion. It's a cold and dry film, which is something not typically associated with him.
I feel let down. So much talent. So much promise. So much hype. And we're left with...this. I won't call this movie terrible, as it is never boring and there are scenes of real power, particularly the end, which is particularly poignant). But it is a disappointment. I expected more from these people.
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