Scorcese revisiting prior movies to explore Final Impenitence/Contrition over Obstinacy

Rating: 7/10 (4 December 2019)

As one watches "The Irishman" (apparently not Scorcese's preferred title) you are eventually hit with the same criticism that audiences had with "Casino" 24 years prior: this is fun and interesting, but feels an awful lot like a retread of Scorcese's prior DeNiro/Pesci modern mobster movies. So the question, especially in light of Scorcese's protracted rants about what is and isn't 'art' in films is: why bother doing a re-tread so familiar that if someone else did it, they would be accused of being Scorcese-like (e.g. "Blow", "Black Mass"), with the only apparent novelty of it being full of CGI typically used in movies he criticizes? It turns out that audiences have to wait almost 3 hours to get the answer: a new epilogue, which gives a Catholic closure that other Scorcese films lack.
As famous as they are for their violence and depiction of sleazy behavior, Scorcese's movies are centered around Catholic concepts. If you take out the rock documentaries and "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore", you have a couple of Paul Schraeder tales centered on wrath and envy; a tale of revenge and honesty; a tale of lust; three nightmares, one about lust and two about guilt; two tales of pride vs shame; 3 religious epics exploring virtue versus humanity; and a long series of criminal bromances which deal with Greed, Gluttony, Wrath, dishonesty, and jealousy. Four of these are directed in a signature dynamic style, which have influenced Tarantino and Danny Boyle, among others. "The Irishman" is a 5th addition, but the main focus of this bromance is Killing. Starting with 1 hour into the movie, characters are only introduced and defined by the way that they will die or mysteriously disappear.
Between killings and mobsters mouthing off about respect, Scorcese's Netflix opus is casually filled with Catholic rites, showing baptisms, weddings, funerals, and a banquet akin to a Confirmation ceremony. It is easy to miss until the last half hour, which more openly focuses much on last rites and Confession. The sin in this case is a mortal sin of Killing (spilling the blood of Adam, if you will), among others, and its lead character descends into purgatory. Scorcese has not found salvation for his criminals before. "Goodfellas" and "The Wolf of Wall Street" left off suggesting Obstinancy in Sin, "The Departed" suggested heavenly punishment for Mortal Sin without Final Impenitence, and "Raging Bull" suggests purgatory (originally defined as externally living in isolation) for its somewhat repentant character. Whereas "Shutter Island" suggested the acceptance of guilt, and most recently "Silence" had its main characters possibly finding a way out of Despair and Impugning the Known Truth. "The Irishman" wrestles with escaping Purgatory via trying to make ammends and build a legacy, but the movie suggests that only proper Confession will do. Perhaps most revealing that this is the part that Scorcese was most interested in doing, is that in this last part is that DeNiro finally seems more comfortable in showing his acting chops, and Rodrigo Santoro's cinematography occasionally makes an effort to give more stylish images, after 3 hours of mostly shots of the actors from the chest up at a 60 degree angle, employing a dull green palette. Unfortunately, it ends suggesting that the character will only tell you half of the truth, but in an anticlimactic way that might make you react 'that's it?'.
But three hours to get there is a bit much, more so when the narrative becomes unfocused and repetitive, and occasionally shots are added or scenes unnecessarily extended to pad out time - or so it feels. If it was to build on a feeling, it must have been hit/miss. It starts out strong, as Joe Pesci comes out of retirement but surprisingly plays the serene, fatherly criminal boss, and the maniacal greedy hothead role goes to someone else. Pesci is great, and bonds well with DeNiro, and this chemistry keeps the story going for about 40 minutes. When it feels like it is running out of energy, in comes the actor doing the 'Pesci role': Al Pacino as... Jimmy Hoffa? Pacino is a lot of fun at first, and easily steals the movie. Unlike Robert Blake and Jack Nicholson, he doesn't even try to look (other than a haircut), act, or sound like Hoffa. Replacing Hoffa's squinty eyes and Transatlantic accent is Al Pacino in full 1990s mode, with a wide-eyed surprised look and thick eyebrows that make him look like a Muppet, as he rants and raves. He gets away with it for the first hour, while we get an entertaining alternate tour of political history of the 1960s. Whether Pacino's performance was meant to be a commentary on 2010s politicians is up for debate. I am already used to Scorcese's casting of stars who do not look or sound like who they are supposed to be. Unfortunately, during the 2nd hour of this, Hoffacino's repeated insulting feels more like Triumph the Insult Dog, and, unless you are really a fan of mob movies where tacky characters go on and on and on about demanding respect from each other, it gets tiresome. Pacino hurls an insult that ends in "sucker" so often that it becomes drinking game fodder, and one might start rooting for him to make his celebrated disappearance.
The screenplay is at its best, as usual for Scorcese's kinetic crime flicks, when it goes through details explaining the modus operandi of the crimes, the slang, and behind-the-scenes details of known historical events. As engaging as most of the story is, the narrative itself has a couple of issues, the first one being structural. It starts off a character recalling an event (which eventually unfolds into the actual plot), and then goes further back in history, occasionally returning to the other later event. This is probably meant to reflect the way a person might tell a personal anecdote, and it works at first, but it gets a bit messy later when going back and forth between times, especially when it involves events where the narrator is not present. We are also left wondering: to whom is Frank telling his story? Are we the confessor? The other issue was an underdeveloped subplot regarding another mystery killing in the mob world for which the main character takes credit. The background is not well explained, and I had to stop and do some research to fully understand what was going on. There are some repetitive exchanges or unnecessarily prolonged scenes that could have been cut down to make room for at least 20 seconds worth of explaining the American Italian Anti-Defamation League, and another 10 more on Crazy Joe. There is a third element that has drawn some criticism from others, but I didn't mind: the daughter as mostly silent witness, serving as a form of conscience, and/or representation of ideals.
Finally, there's the visuals. Scorcese has been requesting that the movie be seen in a screen no smaller than 'a large iPad', without further explanation. Unfortunately, most of the visuals are quite standard or uninspired. Scorcese earns some credit for filming in authentic-looking locations, correctly capturing the houses and neighborhoods of eastern Pennsylvania. The 'wall paintings' are done quite effectively. There is the occasional varied camerawork, but it feels unnecessary: zooming in and out during court hearings; the camera spinning around inside a car to observe through the windows how Jimmy Hoffa is walking towards it; following a minor character down a hallway without good reason, then turning back down the hallway in a lame attempt to trick the audience that it's a continuous shot. Some crane shots of Hoffa in court and of Frank Sheeran walking into places work fine, but are not memorable. Then there are some visual homages to other directors: a couple of scenes (an assassination on steps off a plane; golfing) are done in the visual style of early 1990s Oliver Stone, whose political historical films of that era intersect narratively with this one. There's a key scene of Frank beating up someone in the street, clearly imitating Sonny beating up his brother-in-law in "The Godfather", except that it hits a clumsy point as DeNiro's physicality betrays him, and a character yells in pain when DeNiro fails to connect a kick. Which brings me to the main question: does the Anti-Aging work? Somewhat. Overall, the characters always look 10 years older than they are supposed to. The CGI is seamless if watched in a good quality large cell phone or a low resolution TV, but in a larger, new TV (e.g. 48 inch), the CGI looks off in the first 40 minutes. DeNiro's face looks strange; in what seems at an attempt to simultaneously de-age him and give him some of the real Frank's features, he looks vaguely Asian at times or eastern European. Then there's the color of his eyes, which feel inconsistent, and notably glow bright green in some scenes. There's some discussion whether this is an artistic decision, and marks emotional states or moral decisions of Frank, but I did not catch on to a consistent enough pattern; you can decide. Regardless, it was sometimes distracting. So no, this is not one of Scorcese's visual epics, like "Raging Bull", "Kundun", "Hugo" or "The Aviator". And sonically, it was Scorcese's standard collection of well-placed oldies.
In summary, "The Irishman" is a mostly entertaining tale, especially if you like his similar-themed/structured films. The pacing is uneven, and he could have trimmed down many repetitive scenes; this is the 2nd film in a row of his that I felt that he didn't know when to stop in the 2nd act. The final act is the notable difference from very familiar territory, and Pesci's different performance stands out as one of the year's best, in an otherwise fun but not very inspired retread.