The Gang's All Here - The Irishman
When your career is as long and storied as Martin Scorsese’s, every new work is, by default, in conversation with all the works that have come before it. It is thus hard not to be struck by the extensions of, and diversions from, the visual language Scorsese has created over the past five decades of feature filmmaking. In many ways, The Irishman may be one of Marty’s most quintessential works. It is not necessarily his best, but it does encapsulate so much about what has made him a lasting figure in the business. And it represents perspective and emotional heft that he can only deliver now that he knows the vast majority of his career is behind him. Life is long, hard and ultimately a lie. That is the message Scorsese and Co. seeks to impart.
The broad outline of this epic tale is Frank Sheeran’s (played by Robert DeNiro) rise in the world of organized crime in Philadelphia. He starts out as a truck driver stealing on behalf of an Italian crime family and rises until he is well-respected by all. We watch as this strains his family life and creates a complicated legacy filled with violence, camaraderie and regrets. The framing device for the entire story is Frank in a nursing home at an advanced age, living what are clearly his last years. But we are also treated to snippets of a road trip with his mob pal, Russell Bufalino (played by Joe Pesci) and their wives.
Along the way, he is assigned to be something of a bodyguard for Jimmy Hoffa (played by Al Pacino)—the legendary head of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters. As Hoffa is one of the most high profile people on the planet, and deeply embedded in the world of organized crime, Frank has his hands full protecting him. And when Hoffa becomes an issue for the wrong people, Frank must decide what role he will play in making Hoffa disappear.
The Irishman is one of those rare films where form and function go hand in hand. At 3.5 hours, it is the length of a mini-series. But in that length, you feel something like the weight of a life. And in that weight, the film’s third act finds its heft. The built up regret and self-loathing Frank feels is palpable. There is something about the number of things we see happen to Frank and experience with him that really gave those feelings ground to stand on. A lot of stuff happens in this movie and all of it builds toward the way one must inevitably look back at one’s life.
That quiet sense of brewing regret is best captured by Joe Pesci’s performance. In a mode unlike anything we have seen him do before, Pesci is reserved and measured, allowing for only the emotions Scorsese intended. The result is a compendium of character flaws and missed opportunities that almost make you feel sad for these guys when it’s all over. None of it mattered. This stroke of nihilism compounds slowly throughout the course of the movie and leaves you with more to contemplate than just about everything that has been released this year.
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