The Irishman

The Irishman

Starring Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci, Ray Romano

Directed by Martin Scorsese

The old saying goes: "they don't make movies like this anymore" has been repeated so many times throughout film history that it's almost become a joke of itself - movies that aren't anywhere near that distinction are given that distinction unceremoniously, and now it doesn't have the same importance as it once did.  Saying that, "The Irishman" is most certainly deserving of the title "don't make movies like this anymore" and then some - viewing this epic gangster masterpiece is like traveling back in time, a movie that looks like it should've been done decades ago, and one that will endure in the decades to come as a crowning achievement of an already acclaimed director, led by three of the fiercest, most powerful actors of our generation that tells in grandiose style the lives of American gangsters spanning from the 60s onward, giving an unforgettable, timeless masterpiece that won't be easily topped - and that's saying a lot, considering some of the classic gangster films in history like "The Godfather," "The Godfather Part II," "Goodfellas," and "Scarface" - and now "The Irishman."

The film follows former World War II hero and now-mafia hitman Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) as he is befriended by Philadelphia crime family boss Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci), who pulls him into his world of gangsters, mobsters, money, murder, and extortion: to name a few.  Later he's introduced by Russell to Teamsters leader Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), and the two become very close - so much so that Hoffa brings Frank on as his bodyguard and eventual president of a local union.  As these three men traverse the ups and downs of Mafia life, they each come into conflict with rivals mobsters, union members, government officials, and at times even one another, and the film shows that the mobster life isn't as glamorous as other films make it out to be.

There's a lot that can be said about this film, and I'll surmise it as this: it is an epic masterpiece, pure and simple.  Delivered by the Holy Trinity of mobster films (De Niro, Pacino, and Pesci - who came out of retirement), you feel like you're sitting through a three and a half hour-long church service, where you're in complete and utter awe of what you're witnessing: like a miracle in itself.  The epic runtime might scare some away (and others have gone to actually call the film "boring," which I can't even begin to grasp), but for the true cinephiles out there, this is one film that cannot be missed.  It's an experience, an ethereal journey into the darkest parts of our past, and is absolutely spellbinding and compelling from start to finish.

Martin Scorsese is the grandmaster of mobster films, and this one - easily not his last - feels like the exclamation point on his legendary career.  Wonderfully edited by Thelma Schoonmaker, you feel like no time passes, but we experience decades of these powerful men doing their craft to their utmost, and from the cinematography to the costume design and set pieces, you feel transported to that time in a way that's rarely done nowadays.  The story - based off of the novel "I Heard You Paint Houses" written by former homicide prosecutor Charles Brandt - comes from the confessions of Frank Sheeran before his death, and is grand in scope but possibly not entirely authentic, but it ultimately doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

There's two controversies that the film faces, and one of them deals with the de-aging of the film's stars.  At first, seeing Robert De Niro younger is somewhat off-putting, but it doesn't take long before I was fully immersed in the tale and readily ready to ignore it, as the technology itself isn't perfected yet, but again you're so drawn into the narrative that it ultimately doesn't matter.  The other controversy deals with the lack of female influence, which is drastically different than Scorsese's other mobster works like "Casino" (Sharon Stone), and "GoodFellas" (Lorraine Bracco) - as a lot has been said about the almost mute, ghost-like performance of Anna Paquin as Frank's grown-up daughter Peggy.  Yet those criticisms come from a false place, as you can clearly see why Paquin is silent through most of the movie, and understand the purposes behind it - and her silence screams volumes.

Getting back to the Holy Trinity, it's an absolute spectacle for the eyes and ears to see these three acclaimed (and even that word seems beneath their talent) actors in the prime of their lives, delivering performances that can be easily held next to their other historic works.  Robert De Niro excels at being the quiet, subdued character who harbors a ton of inner emotions that come out in the quietest of moments.  Al Pacino's Jimmy Hoffa is downright impeccable, which pretty much surmises Pacino's career - he is the master of playing real-life characters.  Then there's Joe Pesci, who Scorsese convinced to come out of retirement (after saying "no" at least fifty times), who is much more subdued than his other work, but nonetheless extremely powerful in his performance.  Like Scorsese, these men are members of an almost bygone era, and this film feels like their magnum opus; but also like Scorsese, this won't be the end of their careers (except for maybe Pesci, who might go back into retirement).

Epic in its scale, scope, performances, and everything in between, "The Irishman" is a masterpiece of mobster cinema, one that needs to be seen, and is the true epitome of films "they don't make anymore."

The Score: A+