The Irishman
At first glance, The Irishman is in familiar territory for Scorsese. A mob film starring Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, in their first collaboration with the director since 1995’s Casino, is hardly striking. However, Irishman is anything but your standard mob film. Based on I Heard You Paint Houses by Charles Brandt and with an adapted screenplay by Steven Zaillian, who had previously worked with Scorsese on 2002’s Gangs of New York, the film follows the book’s main subject, Frank Sheehan (De Niro), a trucker who ventures into the Bufalino crime family, headed by Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci) and his later friendship with Teamsters union leader, Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino).
We open with Frank, alone and isolated in a care home reminiscing about his days with the Bufalino family. Even though the film frequently becomes a flashback within a flashback, it never feels confusing nor complicated to follow, meaning you can effectively follow the story and enjoy the peeling back of its various layers. Not only do you see Frank’s descent into organised crime, but also the family dynamics, particularly with his daughter, Peggy (Anna Paquin), and his background as a veteran.
Two points of contention have been widely discussed, which are the length — the film sits at over three and a half hours long — and the use of computer technology to “de-age” it’s main stars. Regarding the former, Netflix is clearly the natural home for Irishman — and not only because they gave Scorsese full-rein and creative control — but also because it gives the viewer flexibility to either watch it as if you’re in the cinema, in one swoop from start to finish, or as a miniseries. I did the latter and through the use of a handy graphic, I was able to end it at key points making the whole experience more memorable and suspenseful.
In relation to the “de-ageing” technology, at first it felt jarring, as if I was watching one of those videos which sit between missions and tasks in Grand Theft Auto, but once you look beyond it, you come to appreciate its value for being able to tell a story that spans decades in an effective way. The only major issue I found with the technology was when Frank was middle-aged and doing something action-based, because even though the face was of De Niro in his fifties, the body movements were clearly by a septuagenerian.
There are two standout performances by Pesci and Paquin. Pesci has done a 180-turn in Irishman and could not be further from Tommy in Goodfellas. He’s restrained, so un-Pesci like that it’s fascinating to watch. While with Paquin, there has been some criticism that she barely has any lines in the film, and yes, that’s true, she doesn’t say much. However, the power in which the nuances of her emotions come to fruition, means that she is saying far more than any dialogue could ever do. De Niro is as good as ever, something that was clearly going to be case. The only issue with acting I noticed was that at times Pacino became too Pacino, especially when Hoffa screams “cocksucker” on multiple occasions, but his performance is still very good, nonetheless.
Whether you watch Irishman in one go or as a miniseries, will likely impact how you view and perceive certain scenes. This is most certainly the case with the closing scenes. Near the end of the film, we see Frank in the same state as he was at the start — alone, isolated and in a care home. If you’ve been watching for three and a bit hours flat-out, the slowness will probably frustrate you, I know it would me. However, if you’ve watched it as a miniseries, the scenes feel even more powerful. They also feel like a direct response from Scorsese to those who have previously criticised him for glamorising the mob and organised crime, something Irishman does not.
Even though the length is a daunting prospect for a casual viewer, The Irishman is Scorsese’s finest film for a very long time, possibly his best since Goodfellas.
