It would be wrong to accuse Martin Scorsese of only making crime pictures when it accounts for less than half of his career, but as "The Irishman" shows, there are few better filmmakers who grapple with the immorality of powerful men.
"The Irishman," set to debut on Netflix on Nov. 27 after a limited run in theaters, relates the life story of Jimmy Sheeran (Robert DeNiro), a midlevel mob enforcer who claims to have worked with the influential labor leader Jimmy Hoffa. The film reunites Scorsese with two of his most famous collaborators, DeNiro and Joe Pesci. Also, Al Pacino finally plays his first role in a Scorsese picture as Hoffa.
As the film opens, Sheeran, an elderly man who uses a wheelchair in a nursing home, narrates the events of his life, framed particularly around fateful three-day road trip to Detroit he takes with Russell Bufalino (Pesci) and their wives. The movie couches flashbacks inside flashbacks, as Sheeran recalls using his job as a meat truck driver to connect with local mob leaders, earning their trust, and earning his own place within the system.
Initially, Bufalino serves as a mentor and guide for Sheeran as he navigates through a world where even a perceived and unintentional mistake can cost you your life. Sheeran eventually finds himself working with Hoffa, the charismatic union president who served at the height of labor power in the United States. Sheeran and Hoffa form a strong bond together of love and trust that includes personal connections with their families.
Like his powerful 1990 mob epic "GoodFellas," Scorsese's latest film spans decades. But while "GoodFellas" unfolds with energy and verve, engulfing audiences in the adrenaline rush of the criminal lifestyle where finality can be around any corner and any minute, "The Irishman" is a somber, meditative look at the mob, where whatever gifts received never come close to matching the costs. There's no exhilaration of youth here, no acknowledgment that these characters are living the high life. Perhaps in response to some misreading past Scorsese films like "GoodFellas," "Casino," and "The Wolf of Wall Street," the work of the characters of "The Irishman" is presented with the banality of an office employee, except with more bloodshed. They are all middle-aged men living relatively modest and upper-middle-class lifestyles, so whatever perceived financial security they believed to achieve for themselves is lost in the ruined lives and relationships left in their wake. Nearly every time a minor character is introduced in "The Irishman" is met with a pause to note that person will die horribly in the future, alone and with a bullet in the head. This is not a life worth emulating, but rather Scorsese looking over his past work and highlighting the last sentence to make sure we all get it this time.
The runtime is three and a half hours, but it never feels it, despite the deliberate pacing of the film. This is due in part to the excellent performances from the three main actors. There are elements of the trademark Pacino persona that are seen in Hoffa, but the actor is clearly engaged in the material, infusing his performance with authority and humanity. Meanwhile, DeNiro and Pesci turn in career-best performances, as the latter conveys calculated menace throughout "The Irishman" without the hair-trigger temper he'd come to be known for in Scorsese films. DeNiro's Sheeran is brought to life as a blue-collar working stiff as a sociopath, going about his work with little remorse and even less insight. A flashback to his time as a World War II veteran offers the sadly ironic fate of his life.
Beyond the story, "The Irishman" plays as the culmination of a lifetime of mob movies, both by Scorsese and others, that play upon the weighted memories of the audience. In addition to "GoodFellas" and "Casino," we can't help but remember Pacino's iconic role in The Godfather movies, "Scarface," and of course, the Pacino/DeNiro duel from "Heat." The banality of working-class mobsters reminds us of the epic HBO series "The Sopranos," and a cast member even makes a cameo here. Finally, the film closes with a note that, to my mind, mirrors and recontextualizes one of the most famous endings in Hollywood history. One can't help but think is the natural conclusion to that historic shot. This feels like the final epilogue by one of the greatest filmmakers. There will undoubtedly be mob movies after this, but I can't imagine Scorsese ever returning to the crime genre again after "The Irishman."
One would hope Scorsese keeps working to push artistic boundaries in the film industry, but even getting "The Irishman," with that cast, crew, and story, had a difficult time getting into theaters. Studios declined to support Scorsese in getting the film made, and it wasn't until the streaming giant Netflix stepped in to signal the green light. And then, movie theater chains refused to show "The Irishman" in theaters unless they had a wider window between release and the streaming premiere, so the film is receiving only a limited run in independent theaters. The times are changing, and even the director noticed.
In the months leading up to "The Irishman's" release, Scorsese made headlines on the Internet after he made comments critical of the Marvel superhero movies and what he believed to be its corrosive effect on the film industry. Whatever interesting points the debate might have had were bypassed as the conversation quickly moved to shouting past one another. Still, for the some who complained Scorsese was "gatekeeping" cinema, the reality is this year's "Avengers: Endgame" opened on the most screens of all time (surpassed only two months later by Disney cousin "The Lion King"), as "The Irishman" gets an independent cinema-type release. The sheep had already left the farm before Scorsese thought about the gate.
Ideally, there would be room for both superhero and mob movies, and every other film genre, to have a chance at success at the theater, which is still the best avenue to experience the medium. My 7:30 showing of "The Irishman" drew a packed house of people waiting in line for a half-hour to get in. The only other Buffalo theater screening the film reported a sell-out as well. Perhaps people are coming in droves to see "The Irishman" because they know there's only a limited opportunity to see the film in theaters, or maybe the industry is underestimating what audiences will come out to see.
Regardless, it's clear that that the business of films is in a transitional phase as the streaming platforms continue to occupy more of our time. For as much original programming as Netflix releases every week, which never seem to make much of an impression in our collective discourse, it is heartening to see the company invest in master filmmakers like Scorsese, the Coen Brothers, and Alfonso Cuarón to film beautiful, insightful, and compelling work.
But I can't help feeling sad that the trend is becoming more the default, not the exception.