The Irishman

The Irishman, Martin Scorsese’s long awaited reuniting of Goodfellas royalty Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci, has a lot in common with Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time In Hollywood, also released earlier this year. They are both period pieces, they both have longer than average runtimes, and they both have Al Pacino being the most Al Pacino he’s ever been. But what makes both of these films so compelling is the reflective nature of them, as both of these directors solemnly look back on their dying breed of stories. 

The Irishman is the story of Frank Sheeran (Robert DeNiro), an Irish hitman employed by the Buffalino crime family, and his involvement with Teamster leader Jimmy Hoffa. There are elements of his previous works here, such as Goodfellas and the Wolf of Wall Street, but what sets this film apart from the others is Scorsese’s fascination with the lows over the highs. Both Goodfellas and Wall Street feature lead characters that revel in the excesses of these criminal lifestyles, but Sheeran never quite fits that mold. Sheeran is a blue collar mobster, paying his dues and keeping his loyalty, and never really partaking in the indulgent lifestyles that lead so many of these criminals to their end.

That lack of a catastrophic fall from grace is what really sets the Irishman apart from his other stories in this genre. There are consequences to these actions, but the real great force keeping these characters in check is the inevitability of time, something that looms over the entirety of the story. Just about every character you meet in this story is introduced with a freeze frame on their profile, and accompanying text stating just when and how these mobsters met their fate. Scorsese, more than ever, is emphasizing here that no matter how powerful or affluent you become in this world, everyone has an expiration date, and no money or influence will save you from that. This sentiment is especially candid coming from the man who essentially pioneered this subgenre of criminal excess, and the entire film almost seems like a last ditch effort from the director to explain his entire filmography to the aspiring Wall Street brokers still watching Jordan Belfort scream at his employees as a source of inspiration. 

Scorsese furthers this reflection by giving one last hoorah to the actors that helped him get to where he is today. It was a little surreal to see Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci paired together again for the first time since Casino, a surreality that was only further enhanced by the (sometimes great, sometimes not so great) digital de-aging of these actors. But once these two started talking to each other, it felt like they never left. DeNiro is the best he’s been in years, but the real surprise here was Pesci, who played an inverse of his characters from the past. Pesci’s Russel Buffalino is an observant force behind just about everything we see on screen, making deals in money and blood with the same casual cadence. There is a dark implication to just about every action he has, and he manages to be just as frightening as Tommy Devito with half the effort. Al Pacino is also firing on all cylinders, utilizing his manic “hoo-ha” energy to encapsulate that same manic charisma that put Jimmy Hoffa on the map. Arguments can surely be made for Pacino being a little too old for the role, but that age is only a visual factor, as he delivers a restless performance that feels right at home in this age of big personalities. 

With the Irishman, you get a lot of Scorsese’s trademarks. Fans of Goodfellas or Casino will have a lot to love about the energy and presentation of this nearly four hour road trip through time, but the Irishman is not the same kind of joy ride as those other films. It presents that same kinetic energy of his past filmography, but in a more subdued manner, slowing it down to a crawl and letting the audience feel the weight of every camera movement and cut. Age is something that creeps in through just about every element of this story, and the Irishman is a cinematic wake for this kind of film that probably won’t ever happen again.