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As for what must be a dream come true for millions familiar with the textbook definition of ‘gangster film’, Scorsese returns yet again, teeth dug right into his roots for a mob film featuring not only the iconic duo of Robert De Niro and Jo Pesci but, for his first ever appearance in the director’s filmography, Al Pacino. The three come together to deliver a familiar yet stylishly-modernised tour de force of power relations and the bonds of friends in high places in The Irishman.
A grey outlived De Niro tells the story of his humble beginnings that led his way up from driving a steak delivery truck to becoming a feared mafia member after crossing paths with lawyer and secret gangster Bill Bufalino and his cousin, Jo Pesci’s Russell, and began making a name for himself doing one bloody deed after the other. As with many Scorsese films, The Irishman is told in a retelling monologue format, with a consistent narration from the aged De Niro providing that classic, nostalgic narrative flow to guide the journey of his younger self at a coherent pace. This is enhanced with some heavily-discussed de-ageing technology for him and Pesci, which works to surreally contrast them from their true, current senior selves without distracting from the narrative.
This main narrative involves a middle-aged De Niro and Pesci on a summer’s road trip with their unceasingly-smoking wives to Detroit. Upon breaking down at a main road, the bright-dressed uncaringly-aging duo laugh at how they’ve coincidentally stopped by the diner where they first met, where the young De Niro found ways to swindle his way into the mafia crime sector. The Goodfellas treatment of the newly-bonding De Niro and Pesci will surely make long-time fans feel at home, as good ol’ mafia culture oozes from the family-like gatherings at high-class restaurants with thick-voiced gangsters spouting witty dialogue from every corner. But Scorsece knows when to supply plain classic formula and when to twist it for originality, most notably the use of his legacy of Pesci’s gangster being an unpredictable provocative psychopath to make his much more internally-restrained and daresay humble role in this film just as intimidating and respect-demanding with smart ever-present fears of what could happen rather than explicitly showing him ripping someone’s chest apart with a pen. De Niro’s proud newbie persona even puts him on the funny guy’s bad side a couple of times, adding much-needed nail-biting twists to the familiar settings and makes the two’s growing bond more unpredictably marvellous, the absolute pinnacle being their first connecting moment, as they gentlemanly discuss the second World War in italian whilst wine-dipping bread.
What’s also striking about The Irishman is its smart use of eye-protein colour to give an all-round golden age atmosphere. Dimly-lit blood-richly coloured restaurants capture the underground soul of the Italian mob while brightly coloured streets and classic cars emphasise the bright fashionable soul of the fifties and the secure happiness of De Niro’s family. Top-notch editing also carves out and supports different moods brilliantly, swerving the camerawork round a mafia restaurant to capture the full unified atmosphere and make conversations immersive, or pulling a civilian’s view for the everydayness of a brutal beating by De Niro over a professional or personal matter, one of the most stylish being when he drags and beats a grocery store owner on the street for touching his daughter. But the most particularly amusing moment reliant on editing, another Scorsese staple, highlights the underlying ridiculousness of mafia tasks as rapid cuts show De Niro dumping enough guns into a river at the same time each night to ‘arm a small country’. Scorsese’s understanding of the importance of active editing to invoke the humorous or daunting juxtapositional normality of such violent gangster work is a key trait still proudly shining.
But as for the true elephant in the room, Pacino is an absolute highlight and makes one wonder why Scorsese never utilised his incomparable charisma before, playing very much the same disgruntled but provocative energy from Heat nearly 25 years ago that just makes him that likeable and iconic even at 79. But what is an actor without a fitting script? As Scorsese assigns a fantastically malleable role to him as Jimmy Hoffman, a financially-booming entrepreneur who has ties to the white house and criminal empires who is both an enthusiastic family man and blood-boiling speech-giver. Pacino’s performance is therefore a riot, applying his charismatic but threateningly-explosive persona to what’s almost definitely his last great send-off, having unpredictably hostile fits of anger over fraud reveals in the custom of his business room while displaying his more low-key snarky wiseman act to his new friends in his living room. This also adds a fresh dynamic political side to the Scorsese crime genre, which rarely feels hackneyed and irrelevant to the main characters’ development.
But what might make The Irishman a rather daunting, straining view to some is its shocking 210 minute running time. While this may be hard for one to remain invested, it allows the film to fully exercise its main themes and exploration of its characters’ durabilities with more freedom for experimenting with pacing. This allows The Irishman to explode with the potential of the mob empire and the indulgences of sudden wealth by having multiple energetic conversations and densely-packed criminal work in the first half, even outright skipping De Niro’s presumably awkward honourable introduction to the president-level Jimmy and cutting straight to the roaring drunk conversation and laughing midnight banter, while also allowing the film to draw on ten-minute conversations to respectfully address a character’s humanity and internal conflict in the latter half. We also see a much steadier development and maturing of De Niro’s character and a very slow-heat political narrative with Jimmy, which would’ve been woefully rushed otherwise.
The Irishman is not only the perfect send-off for both Scorsese’s gangster genre and three of the greatest Hollywood stars in history, but is a standalone masterpiece that rivals a top spot in the man’s entire career. Exploring different stages of De Niro and Pesci’s lives at as they get progressively humble with age is a surreal experience, with the cantankerous energy of Pacino to boot. The criminal empire is explored stylistically and intellectually through its sights of bloody murders and heated fraudulent political debates to the more subtle interrogative talks with complex puppet strings of loyalty and ego controlling even the most dominant characters. The Irishman boasts snappy dialogue and a marvellously-intertwining spectrum of pacing to keep you invested in these characters to the very end, which slowly starts to show the melancholic passing of time for one with many life regrets as it catches up to the past-dwindling old De Niro. If you want to see if the soul of gangster film is still exercising to this day, free up a whole evening for Scorsese’s latest and prepare to be blown away by this year’s biggest tour de force and its unceasingly dynamite cast.