Martin Scorsese 2013 USA
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Jonah Hill, Margot Robbie, Matthew McConaughey, Kyle Chandler, Rob Reiner, Jean Dujardin, Jon Favreau, Joanna Lumley, Jon Bernthal, Cristin Milioti, Kenneth Choi, PJ Byrne, Shea Whigham, Katarina ÄŒas, Mackenzie Meehan, Jake Hoffman, Henry Zebrowski, Brian Sacca
Martin Scorsese was once among the very top-tier of American directors, standing at the helm of classics such as Taxi Driver, Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore and Goodfellas, but in recent years his work has been of varying quality. In many ways I view him in a similar way to Woody Allen in that his name on a project will immediately spark my attention but I'll go into it with blinkers firmly down. His latest film, The Wolf Of Wall Street, is a dramedy exploring addiction, aspiration and the stock market and is easily his best in years, if not the last decade, with Terence Winter's electric script interestingly directed and intensely acted although many of its events would seem unlikely if it wasn't largely a true story (it's adapted from the real Jordan Belfort's memoir). A lot of the credit has to go to Leonardo DiCaprio who is in practically every scene, spitting out each word, baring his teeth and taking to the microphone to preach his wares like there's an outboard motor where his spine should be. Early on he has to play Belfort at 22 and, through a combination of his talent and the voiceover rich, forth-wall stomping, guidebook style of the opening scenes (we never see him as a boy or even a teen so it's logical that his appearance matches the only image of him we have), he pulls it off, notably in a dinner table scene featuring a corking cameo from a chest-beating, beatboxing Matthew McConaughey. In the film's funniest and simultaneously most disturbing moment DiCaprio also shows unexpected physical ability when, accidentally buzzed out of his eyeballs on Quaaludes, he goes beyond slurring and drooling and straight to what he refers to as "the cerebral palsy phase" and flails like a butterfly freshly shorn of its wings but not quite dead, desperately attempting to mimic his baby daughter's crawling to make his way out of a building, down a flight of steps and into his car, all the while bemoaning his own incompetence via a voiceover. Following that he fights a cacophonously high Jonah Hill and finds himself almost fatally entangled in a phone cable before having to coke himself up just so he can stand long enough to save Hill from choking, making himself at once a ridiculous, pathetic and frighteningly human monster. Speaking of which Hill is the big surprise of the production, jettisoning his teen-movie fat guy past and giving an affecting and convincingly conceited performance as Belfort's red right-hand. Australian newcomer Margot Robbie is excellent too, matching DiCaprio word for word, fuck for fuck (and there are a lot of both categories) in numerous confrontations with a mixture of confidence and a gorgeous Brooklyn drawl. For his part Scorsese is on top form throughout, casually throwing in the music of Howlin' Wolf on the soundtrack as DiCaprio struts around his office and at one point framing what appears to be a TV infomercial on screen only for it to be interrupted mid-pitch by FBI agents who arrest the speaker before advancing on the camera (and by extension the audience) and pushing the holder to the ground, the image falling and spinning along with them. His biggest risk however is that his lead character (and practically every other) is vindictive, unashamedly narcissistic and making his vast fortune by exploiting the same public that make up most of the audience. Even as he's burdened with one hardship after another Jordan remains eternally smug, viewing himself as, to paraphrase Yogi Bear, better than the average man, a point the film almost seems to reinforce. I've been pretty scathing about Scorsese's last few films, not to mention last year's The Family (on which he served as executive producer) but The Wolf... shows in every minute of its tight three hours that he's still capable of the very best and thoroughly deserving of his legendary status. Here's hoping he continues in this vein, rather than the faux-Hitchcock twistiness of Shutter Island, for a long time.
