Painting Houses With "The Irishman"

Martin Scorsese's long-gestating mob epic has finally hit Netflix, and it's a doozy. Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci are all back onscreen together with a loaded supporting cast, tackling the events around the disappearance of union leader Jimmy Hoffa in 1975.

DeNiro plays Frank Sheeran, the Irishman of the title, who is brought into the criminal enterprises of Russ Bufalino (Pesci), a Philadelphia crime boss. He also becomes a close friend of Hoffa (Pacino), who helps fund the mob, but grows increasingly hostile to them over time, especially a New Yorker named Tony Pro (Stephen Graham). Much of the story is told in flashback, with the main action taking place in 1975, when Frank and Russ are driving to Detroit with their wives to attend a wedding, and conduct some business along the way.

"The Irishman" is three and a half hours in length, it takes a long time to really get a sense of the story that it's telling. At first, it's a typical, rowdy Scorsese crime picture, charting Frank's career as a mob enforcer over several years, and his cozy friendships with Russ and Jimmy. The violence is quick and slick, and Frank is a loyal soldier who stays out of trouble and in everyone's good graces. And the movie is a lot of fun. Then we're in 1975 and the pace slows to a crawl. Frank is on his way to his final meeting with Jimmy, and suddenly the stakes are incredibly high, the tension is unbearable, and the prospect of violence is sickening. And then there's the denouement, which seems inexorable, an unblinking depiction of what happens to Frank in the aftermath of his mob career. In old age and infirmity, the consequences of his lifestyle finally catch up with him, and Scorsese is all too ready to address it head on.

The greatest pleasure of "The Irishman" is seeing Scorsese get these fantastic performance out of a trio of acting greats who haven't had the chance to tackle material like this for too long. DeNiro, I'm sad to say, gets significantly hampered by the heavy use of digital de-aging in the early going. There's simply no disguising that in many scenes a 70-something DeNiro is trying to play a 40-something man in his physical prime. The technology is much better than it used to be, but there are still some notable shortcomings. Fortunately, the more emotionally fraught sequences requiring more subtle acting come later in the film. Al Pacino delivers classic Al Pacino, as fiery and fierce as ever. The real surprise of the picture, however, is Joe Pesci. Russ Bufalino is a very smart, very self-controlled man with a kindly disposition. When he does terrible things, he tends to do them gently - and it's fascinating to watch. I had no idea that Pesci had this in him.

And then there's Scorsese and his crew. Scene by scene, "The Irishman" feels very much of a piece with "Goodfellas," "Casino," and all the rest. Steven Zaillian's dialogue is wonderfully memorable. Rodrigo Prieto's cinematographer never falters. Thelma Schoonmaker is as sharp as ever, juggling multiple timelines and versions of the characters. But while all the sections of the film involving Frank's mob career are excellent, what "The Irishman" is going to be remembered for is that final forty minutes, where Frank grows older and we reach the present day. Scorsese has only briefly touched on the final fates of his mobster anti-heroes in previous films. Here, he's merciless about confronting them with their ultimate fates - untimely deaths for most, and for the few survivors, estrangement and guilt. Much of the film actually hinges on a character who appears briefly, and says very little - Frank's daughter Peggy (Anna Paquin), whose absence haunts him worse than any of his misdeeds.

There are little touches throughout the whole film that signal the film's preoccupation with ignoble ends, notably that every time a new mob figure is introduced, onscreen text gives us not only their name and description, but their date and manner of death. Some of the names and events depicted should be familiar, but Scorsese keeps the narrative perfectly penetrable for those ignoramuses (including yours truly) who aren't up to speed on their mob or union history. "The Irishman" should satisfy those viewers primarily interested in Scorsese's take on Hoffa. But as far as I'm concerned, this movie is Scorsese's last word on the world of organized crime, and it's a magnificent finale.

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