The Irishman: Nothing Short of a Masterpiece

I want to open my 50th article with a disclaimer that I hope adequately sets the expectations for this review: Martin Scorsese's The Irishman, an adaptation of Charles Brandt's 2004 book I Heard You Paint Houses, is one of the very best movies I have ever had the privilege of watching, and I can't think of many other movies I would rather walk across the fifty-mark with than this one. In a lot of ways, watching it felt a lot like watching The Godfather for the first time again. Despite the movie's gargantuan runtime that actually outstrips Coppola’s 1974 sequel to his timeless epic that kind of became a timeless epic in its own right, The Godfather Part II, Scorsese's The Irishman earns it's runtime with no questions asked. It is equal parts grand and intimate, at the same time guiltily exciting and undeniably tragic. It's impeccably designed in every way, from what's on the screen to what's lying just below the surface of this film in its subtext. It is a truly great piece of cinema, and one I hope that you will decide to sit through by the end of this review if you haven't seen it, in spite of its nearly-three-and-a-half-hour runtime. This article is going to be a little bit longer than my usual fare on this site, because I think this movie deserves a little bit of time to be sat on. I want to adequately give you an idea of how great this movie is, and I honestly don't think that a normal article would suffice. I want to delve into what went on behind the lens of this movie as well as what's on screen. But before we get into all of this, that obligatory synopsis.

The Irishman narrates the life of real-life mob enforcer Frank Sheeran and uncovers his rags-to-riches rise through the ranks of the very real Bufalino crime family, spanning 51 years of deceit, wealth, violence, family, trusts made, trusts broken, and ultimately, regret.

So, can I just say that this film’s ambition is just about second-to-none? I don’t often see small-scope biographies or large-scale historical films put on the big screen anymore, to say nothing about movies that combine both of these aspects into one cohesive story. The market is kind of cornered by franchise films, action flicks, and superhero movies as of today, so seeing a film like The Irishman was at the same time a new commodity and experience as well as something refreshingly vintage and almost exclusive-feeling, like Scorsese had made a movie for those of us with older souls who were nostalgic for the days of shamelessly sprawling epics the likes of The Godfather. And he delivered on this front. The Irishman is an absolutely massive feat of storytelling and visual grandeur. Rarely have I seen a film so unapologetically ambitious. And while this massive scale that the movie has is pretty cool, what makes it truly special is it’s intentional and intimate scope. The Irishman is less concerned with the trappings of Frank Sheeran’s surroundings and the world he lives in, and far more interested in what Frank Sheeran thinks of them. This is Frank’s movie, and while this would have been a refreshing perspective on and of its own right, Scorsese’s choice to keep Frank at the center of the film served a practical purpose as well. This movie's scale is truly tremendous, and by keeping the focus entirely on Frank, on his goals, on his hopes, on his fears, on his family, and on how his views of the world change with time, Scorsese keeps the movie from spiraling off into a mere series of events, and brings a much-needed sense of purpose and focus to The Irishman. For as much excess as Scorsese likes to bring to the setting and production side of his movies, I really love how committed he is to keeping the characterization side of this film completely grounded and minimal. Sure, it’s a massive story, but the story beats are readily recognizable, and never hidden under pointless subplots that tend to arise in epic films similar this one that love to indulge in their tendencies, good and bad.

Wholeheartedly assisting this intentional focus that The Irishman clings to are the second-to-none technical aspects of the movie, as far as the cinematography, camera work, and production design are concerned. Yes, I am aware of the de-aging controversy that this film became embroiled in, and to be completely honest with you, it never really took me out of the film. I thought that for what the technology can do today, it actually looked, dare I say it given the internet’s opinion on this particular subject, relatively impressive for what the filmmakers had to work with. But I digress. The cinematography of this movie, done by Rodrigo Prieto, is really good. It may lack the obvious artistic flair that a Fraser or Deakins project would have, but the image itself looked really solid, and it was obvious that a lot of intentionality and thought was put into the otherwise-minimal lighting schemes of this movie. What stood out to me even more was the way the camera moved. This film is not afraid of the long shot. Speaking of which, did you know that the average shot in a movie today is only a little more than two seconds? That’s a sign of an attention-strapped society if I ever did see one, and The Irishman rightfully does away with a lot of the flair we see in modern Hollywood that's designed to keep Gen Z from getting bored, which is becoming an increasingly difficult task with each passing day. But anyways, I’m getting sidetracked again. My point is that this movie isn’t afraid to take it’s time and be patient not only with its story, but also with how it presents itself visually. It’s a mature outlook on cinema, and while some may call it self-indulgent, I would argue otherwise: major motion pictures used to regularly be like this, and while I am not one of those guys who goes around throwing out blanket statements the likes of “no one makes good movies anymore,” The Irishman is something of a callback to the very best aspects of classic cinema without any of the cheese, camp, and silliness that we so often and so conveniently forget about when it comes to discussing older movies.

Moving on to the next subject, one of my favorite things about this movie are the various clever recurring cues that the film uses to highlight character development and/or lack of it. Two of my favorites have to be Peggy Sheeran, Frank’s daughter, sitting down at the table and looking at Frank. Usually, this happens after Frank did something else bad, and this adds juxtaposition to his double life, while also highlighting Peggy’s differing reactions to his habits as her outlook on life changes and her childlike innocence fades with time. Another recurring aspect I loved that highlighted character change was how Frank would always throw his guns in the river after each job he would do for the mob. It was a silent but straightforward demonstration of his progress in the criminal underworld. Every gun thrown in the river is, in a lot of ways, another token towards success in the mob, and a silent indication of Frank’s character growth (or character regression, depending on how you look at it). All of the underwater shots showing the many, many rusting firearms in the river also made me aware of how seedy Frank’s way of life was. Let’s just say that he’s probably not the only person who had the idea to dispose of potentially incriminating weapons there, and I'm no proponent of murder, but if he was, that's an impressive amount of it. The movie also adheres to other miscellaneous rules of filmmaking, rules like “if a gun is introduced, it must go off.” Scorsese is a master of his craft, and his mastery is on full display in this movie.

And for as glamorous as the technical aspects of this movie may be, what I absolutely love about The Irishman, and what makes it different from other films and even other gangster films is it’s incredibly mature and somber outlook on life and on the nature of violence. The film never offers easy answers or moralizing, and instead asks us, the viewers, a series of questions that I personally wasn’t exactly prepared to answer and probably should have been expecting from a movie like this. The Irishman is the complete and utter antithesis of movies that glamorize the lifestyle of a career criminal. At the end of this story we would like to be defined by upbeat jazz music, death-wish love, daring pursuits, and lavish lifestyles waits old age, the eventual and inevitable deaths of those we worked with, shame over our actions, and a deeply uncomfortable and unsettling question: does anything we did even matter when old age and death come knocking? This film doesn’t glamorize or glorify violent people, and it seems to offer a warning to those of us who would by showing us the consequences of living such a lifestyle. I think that The Irishman demonstrates these truths to us in a more inherent, honest, and undeniable way than even The Godfather did. In a way, The Irishman is a story that only an older man like Scorsese would have been able to truly understand and tell with the raw emotional honesty that he did. I don't think that I will ever be able to truly shake this film, and in a way, I kind of hope I never will, even if it will probably bring me a decent amount of trouble and uncomfortable patterns of thought the older I get. The end of this film is unexpectedly deep and introspective for a film that had for two hours seemed to more or less subscribe to the creed of the gangster, and is a much-needed wake-up call in a world that doesn't like to talk about tough and universal subject matter like this. Bringing added weight to these already-potent ideas is Robert De Niro's spellbinding performance as Frank Sheeran, which becomes increasingly and appropriately haunted as the film draws closer and closer to its quiet and somber whisper of a conclusion. To reiterate what I said at the beginning of this article, The Irishman is truly one of the best and most epic yet intimate films I've ever seen, and I hope that you'll give it a chance despite its gargantuan runtime that will test even the most committed of cinephiles. This is a story I think everyone needs to hear at least once, even with all of its violence and all of its crass language. The Irishman could very easily be considered a classic one day, and I would argue that given its subject matter and the manner in which it deals with it, in a lot of ways, it already is.

The Irishman - 10/10

2 Corinthians 7:8-10