The Resurrection of Classic Cinema.

Rating: 10/10 (4 April 2020)

In the year 2000, Martin Scorsese appeared alongside Roger Ebert to discuss his picks for the top ten best movies of the 1990s. At number four, Scorsese chose Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece, Eyes Wide Shut. He said of it, "I cherish the film because it puts you in the authoritative hands of an old master, with a style that flies in the face of every modern convention." Those words hold truth. It seems the very best movies are the auteur pictures. The ones with a guiding hand that shakes you in your seat, directs you through the story, and pummels you with images of power and grace. And that is how I would describe Scorsese's own film, 2019's The Irishman. This sprawling mob epic/ intimate character examination/ eulogy to a lost film era, is a gift. Through all three and a half hours of The Irishman, I was awash in a kind of deep gratitude. I had the surreal sensation of witnessing an all-time classic reveal itself before my eyes. It was like discovering The Godfather in 1972 or Goodfellas in 1990. I felt the warm truth the actors brought, and the ultra-confident hands of a filmmaker who may one day be recognized as the greatest artist of the medium. The Irishman is Scorsese's Eyes Wide Shut; a master director 's masterpiece, a towering beacon from another era, somehow, gloriously existing in this one.
The most apt descriptor of the Irishman may not be the first thing to come to mind when you look at the pieces involved. For all its small time thugs, cozy interiors, and countless scenes of meetings, phone conversations and casual dinners, The Irishman is an epic. Epics seem to come to Hollywood in waves. For every boom time (1920s, 1960s, 2000s), there are long droughts where nary a single movie is made that can rightfully claim the title. We are in the middle of such a drought. Many movies are overblown and overlong, but none truly epic. The Irishman, which has gotten plenty of ire for its daunting three and half hour runtime, is one of the only true epics if its decade. And not just because of its length. The story of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), a supposed mob hitman and crucial cog in the rise and fall of Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino) seems very much of a piece with Scorsese's other, smaller mob movies, Goodfellas, Casino, and The Departed. Those films teem with energy, but they don't match The Irishman for scope. Here is an adapted screenplay by Steve Zaillian that traces the breadth of the Golden years of American crime and filters it through the eyes of a handful of characters. Following Frank from the end of World War II to the beginning of the 21st century, Zaillian and Scorsese create a story that feels enormous. The script somehow manages to weave together a slew of major world events into Frank's story a la Forrest Gump, but in a way that feels real and inevitable. This movie is huge. Scorsese holds nothing back; no idea, no bit of color, no set piece or character moment. It's all in there. Yes, The Irishman is very long, and it feels long. It should. This is a journey. The film sweeps you along for its entirety. The sumptuous technical craft and storytelling involvement make it next to impossible to tear yourself away from its embrace. You savor every single moment of The Irishman. It's a feast. The canvas is enormous and every inch of it is painted with exquisite detail.
The Irishman is cast like a film lover's ultimate fantasy. The epic crime drama is populated with many of the finest character actors working, as well as a few inspired outsiders, and it stars three of the all-time titans of the industry. But fantasy this is not. What's better is not just that this film exists, for real, in our time, but that everyone is at the very top of their games. Robert De Niro as Frank Sheeran roars back into the world of acting after a long hiatus as a human cartoon character. His Sheeran is an extremely tricky challenge for an actor. He is asked to play a man who is a bit of a dolt, but is still racked with unrecognized guilt. It's an internalized performance if ever there was one. DeNiro plays it absolutely right. He doesn't command the screen like we know he can, but instead wisely chooses a weak, almost bashful, but kind of charming naÃ¯vetÃ©. The heavy lifting comes from the supporting players. Specifically, the two other legends brought back from the cinematic grave, Al Pacino and Joe Pesci. Pacino plays Jimmy Hoffa in a towering performance worthy to stand alongside the very best of his legendary career. His entrance in the film brings a thunderbolt of classic acting energy. If any living actor understands the power of commanding theatricality on screen, it must be Pacino. His Hoffa is a shining example of the tremendous power of acting joie de vivre. The beating heart of The Irishman is, however, Joe Pesci. His very appearance is a shock, having been retired from acting for 20 years, but almost more shocking is his unprecedentedly subtle brilliance as Frank Sheehan's mob mentor, Russell Bufalino. He is far away from the volatile goons on which he made his name. Here Pesci is relaxed, sagely, and world weary. His presence onscreen is awesome in an almost religious sense. It's literally like watching someone rise from the dead, wiser and more ethereal than before.
Who knew this was possible? Who knew these legends who seemed to have faded away into history long ago, still had this intensity, this sensitivity, this skill? Maybe they never lost it. How lucky are we, then, to have gotten this showcase script for them to shine in? The Irishman's detractors have hid behind certain "controversial" elements, such as the CGI de-aging used to assist the actors in portraying their younger selves, the film's length, or its distribution on Netflix. None of these trivial hang ups negate what Martin Scorsese and his collaborators have done with The Irishman. This is a classic that will hang in the annals of film history. A film to stand alongside The Godfather, Goodfellas, and the other greats of the genre. The simple fact that it exists brings me immense joy. The fact that it is a perfectly crafted piece of art, overflowing with meaning and themes and personal connections to its auteur brings me something else entirely. This is why I watch movies, why I never allow myself to get too discouraged by modern sensibilities. Because the masters are always a spark of inspiration away from returning to glory. Don't lose hope, there is still room for new classics.
98/100