I invite you to join me on a regular basis to see how my responses to current cinematic offerings compare to the critical establishment, which I’ll refer to as either the CCAL (Collective Critics at Large) if they agree with me or the OCCU (Often Cranky Critics Universe) if they choose to disagree.
Ford v Ferrari (James Mangold)rated PG-13
“Executive Summary” (no spoilers):(More-or-less) based-on-fact story about the grueling 24-hour Le Mans motor race (day or night, rain or shine) in 1966, this one pitting frequent-champ Enzo Ferrari’s dominating sports cars against upstart entries from the Ford Motor Co. somewhat as a rebuttal to Ferrari refusing Henry Ford II’s offer to merge with the Italians, somewhat as a personal vendetta of Mr. Ford, responding to insults from his competitor. Ford II, through V.P. Lee Iacocca, enlists famed race-car-designer Carroll Shelby (the only American ever to win at Le Mans back then) who in turn brings along frequent-friend/sometimes-foe fearless, brash British driver Ken Miles, expert in getting better performance from the emerging Ford racer but not the kind of public persona acceptable to another Ford V.P., Leo Beebe. Problems with getting the Ford racer into truly-competitive-shape lead to Shelby finally getting the kind of (almost) full control he needs, allowing Miles his own freedom after winning the 1966 24-hour Daytona marathon as proof he could handle Le Mans. Beyond that, I’d have to venture into Spoiler territory (which you can do easily if you like with an Internet search about this event or just by reading all of my review below), but I will say I think auto-racing-fans (which normally don’t include me [how many times can you watch someone zip around in some form of a circle, he wonders?]) will be thrilled with the action here as vividly depicted on screen while the rest of us can simply appreciate the expected-solid-acting from Matt Damon (Shelby) and Christian Bale (Miles), as well as get some sense of what it must be like to hurl yourself around a racetrack at up to 200 or more miles per hour (as Shelby demonstrates to Ford II, proving why they need someone as unflappable as Miles to run their race).
Here’s the trailer: (Use the full screen button in the image’s lower right to enlarge it; activate that same button on the full screen’s lower right or your “esc” keyboard key to return to normal size.)
If you can abide plot spoilers read on, but as this blog’s intended for those who’ve seen the film—or want to save some bucks—to help any of you who want to learn more details yet avoid important plot-reveals I’ll identify any give-away sentences/sentence-clusters like this:
⇒Thefirst and last words will be noted with arrows andred.⇐OK, now continue on if you prefer.
What Happens:Once again we’re in the realm of “inspired by a true story,” so join brilliant dogMr. Peabodyand his adopted human son, Sherman, as they escort us into their WABAC machine, arriving in the early 1960s where we first meet Texas-born Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) who’s either dreaming, daydreaming, or reminiscing (not sure, but no matter) about 1959 when he became the first American to win the body/mind-crushing-endurance-test in France known as the 24 Hours of Le Mans (each car has a pair of alternating drivers who keep going around an 8½ mile track for a full day), although he did it in a British Aston Martin rather than a U.S. car; he’s frustrated his heart condition precludes him from such further-demanding-driving so he puts his energy into building race cars at his Shelby American factory near L.A., often depending on his drives-like-a-maniac-friend, Brit Ken Miles (Christian Bale), to pick up the trophies, although Ken’s idiosyncratic-attitude, sharp wisecracks (often at Shelby’s expense) gain him no favors with racing officials nor customers in his repair shop, soon repossessed for missed payments. Unbeknown to them in 1963, across the country in Detroit Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts)—even though he’s the grandson of famed-assembly-line-proponent Henry Ford, with H.F. II being the son of Edsel Ford, so I guess this is an alternative to not actually being a “Junior”—is angrily-worried about his company losing market share to Chevrolet, so one of his V.P.s, Lee Iacocca (Jon Bernthal), suggests they need to project a more dynamic image, like the products of Italian automaker Enzo Ferrari (Remo Girone), whose expensive sports cars win famous races. Iacocca and his team even call on Ferrari, offering to buy his cash-strapped-company, but a combination of not fully keeping control of his race-car-division and a looming option from Fiat (ultimately successful in 1969) led to Enzo rejecting the offer, leveling some insults at Ford II in the process, leading the Detroit honcho to work through Iacocca to team up with Shelby, financing a Ford race car that could beat Ferrari’s entries at Le Mans. Shelby’s willing but has trouble convincing Miles to join him, until Ken’s cash-strapped-reality (much more financially-troubling at the lower end of the economic-spectrum than Enzo’s situation, even with a new mechanic's job at another garage, barely allowing him to support wife Mollie [Caitriona Balfe] and teenage son Peter [Noah Jupe]), so they, along with Shelby’s team, headed by Phil Remington (Ray McKinnon)—and more input than they want from Ford, especially Senior Executive V.P. Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas)—keep pushing the Ford GT40 to better levels of improvement, although Beebe finally pushes Miles out as too much of an egotistical “beatnik” to properly be a public face of the company, putting his faith in New Zealander Bruce McLaren (Benjamin Rigby) instead, even though when the Ford cars compete at Le Mans in 1964 none of them finish the race.
Henry Ford II’s ready to abandon the whole project until Shelby convinces him otherwise, with the proviso he’s now to be totally in charge of the project, yet even Ford II refuses to rehire Miles until Shelby takes him for a test drive at such speeds the old man’s “driven” to fright-filled-tears, agrees someone as steel-willed as Miles is what they need to conquer the bone/brain-crunching-demands of Le Mans, which Ken proves himself capable of by winning the similar 24-hour-endurance-test of the 1966 Daytona race (using extreme speed) as a final requirement. ⇒AtLe Mansthere are 3 Ford teams (each car alternates 2 drivers—another Ford car’s captained by McLaren), 3 from Ferrari (plus many others) with the initial challenge being drivers racing across the track, jumping in their cars to blast off, with some not even making it past the starting line before serious mishaps occur. Miles roars away quickly, but his driver’s-side-door won’t stay closed so he has to pull off into the pit after the first lap so Phil can bang it shut with a mallet. After that, on they all go for hours and hours, enduring darkness, rain, crashes by other drivers along the way, with Miles (who pushed his car up to the dangerous territory of 200+ mph, a bit into the 7,000 rpm’s red zone, then had to have his entire braking system replaced) finally in full control as all the Ferrari cars failed, the other 2 Fords left way behind as he set/exceeded his own time record for a single lap. However, as he prepared to push forward for his last shift at the wheel, Shelby had to tell him of Beebe’s demand that Miles slow down so the other Ford cars could catch up as they’d all cross the finish line in tandem; Miles has no interest in this (neither does Shelby), but at the last minute goes along with it; however, even though he’s barely first over the line the race goes to McLaren due to a rules technicality his car started behind Miles’ so he actually covered more distance when he finished (?). We’re all shocked at this outcome, but Ken takes it in good spirits just because he got to drive at all. However, the real shock comes a couple of months later when he’s doing another test drive where his brakes fail, the car crashes engulfed in flame (this had happened earlier on a test drive but he survived), killing Miles. Months later Shelby’s still upset, has a brief final visit with Peter and Mollie, followed by final intertitles before the credits telling us Ford cars went on to win Le Mans in 1967-’69,* Miles was inducted into the Motorsports Hall of Fame in2001, with Shelby honored, well-remembered too.⇐
*See this articleif you wantfor some interesting details on the post-1966 wins for Ford at Le Mans.
So What?In truth, I don’t recall seeing anything on screen at the beginning of this movie about it being based in historical fact (a practice which seems to have become the norm in such current productions), but maybe I was distracted by the tasty, toppings-enhanced popcorn which I often don’t eat at these screenings, knowing I’ll be busy taking notes; however, this time I chomped away more than usual in the opening minutes because all that really mattered to me was who’d win this race (as if I couldn’t guess without Googling, I assumed; maybe the occasional fictional sports movie like Rocky [John G. Avildsen, 1976] can succeed [it did; won Oscar’s Best Picture, Best Director; global box-office of $225 million] with an inspirational-triumph rather than an actual victory in a crucial-competition, yet I can’t see where a docudrama of the magnitude of Ford v Ferrari[$97.6 million production budget, major star-power] would be made if the protagonist’s car blew up on the final lap [even as the finale’s major events surprised me after all]). I’ve never been much of a racing fan, becoming bored with the repetition of cars going around in circles for hours (I get much more involved with horses making only one sweep of their tracks, even though I’m becoming quite disturbed by news of equine deaths during training/after racing, concerns about animal cruelty with jockeys viciously whipping their animals, etc., so I’m drifting away from that), never finding any thrill when crashes on the racetracks lead to death, injury, or even just potential danger to oncoming cars, having no heritage with relatives or friends all that interested in this sport, but for those who care about these souped-up-cars, fearless drivers, daredevil tactics at extremely high speeds, cinematography putting you actively into the flow of dangerous hunks of metal almost flying as their motions approach the breaking point I think this movie will deliver a successful immersion into what makes this highly-dangerous-sport into an experience many wish to be a part of, either as spectators or (yikes!) behind the wheel, even as dangerous curves approach (Miles mostly spun around them by braking, not really letting up much on his acceleration—we do get plenty of shots of his feet in such actions, maybe more fascinating to the true believers than to “OK, let’s get this part of the story over with”-me) along with the constant fear of what might happen if another driver nudges you too hard or (saints preserve us!) comes flying into you. For those (again, like me) who need something more than car-centric-dialogue (terms I can’t even recognize except from some early Beach Boys songs) the interpersonal dynamics here between Shelby and Miles are quite compelling (you truly feel their connections even when they argue), the success of true-believer-individualists over corporate-image-executives is satisfying, while the whole thing proves to be mostly accurate, even as Hollywood drama invariably inserts itself, as detailed inthis short video(9:42) about the Top 10 things right and wrong in this cinematic story (be aware of Spoilers).
Bottom Line Final Comments:The CCAL's highly-supportive of this pure-hearted-retro-sense-of-triumph-movie (which turns out to be more like Rocky than I’d originally assumed), with a hearty 91% collection of positive reviews at Rotten Tomatoes, an 81% average score at Metacritic (very-encouraging for this bunch) while domestic (U.S.-Canada) audiences have also been reasonably supportive during the 2 weeks of release with this movie playing at 3,528 theaters, bringing in $57.7 million in domestic grosses so far, although last weekend nothing else much mattered except Disney’s Frozen II (Jennifer Lee, Chris Buck) with its enormous-domestic-gross-debut of $130.3 million, dominating 4,440 screens (Box Office Mojo’s new format no longer notes total worldwide grosses for specific movies [at least not that I can find], but Frozen II was the leader in many markets across the globe according to Mojo's individual-country-tallies, bringing in another $103.1 million from the 9 nations where it was the box-office-champ last weekend [China, South Korea, France, Turkey, Vietnam, Hungary, Croatia, Slovenia, Iceland—of course—with no info I know about to tell how it did in the other 10 they’ve reported, along with any others around the world not covered in these 19 listings], although Ford v Ferrari was #1 in Australia last weekend). This possibly-a-bit-too-esoteric-race-car-content might not hold up very long as the potential-awards-contenders keep rolling out, but I’ll bet it’ll still be easily available for the next few weeks if you’d like a pure adrenaline rush before settling in for all the Oscar-yearning-dramas either out now or soon vying to capture your attention. Until you see some of them, though, I’ll leave you with my usual wrap-it-up Musical Metaphor, intended to bring an aural closure to what’s gone so brilliantly before in the contents above. We’ll start with one of those tunes I referenced earlier, the Beach Boys’ “Shut Down” (from both of their 1963 albums, Surfin’ U.S.A. and Little Deuce Coupe, emphasizing both aspects of their early popularity) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09yy OQjvKdMwhere you not only get the original quintet live on stage but also Mike Love on saxophone, as this battle between 2 American hotrods (a Dodge 413 and a Corvette) echoes the movie’s Ford-Ferrari matchup (“Superstock Dart is winding out in low but my fuel injected Stingrays really starting to go To get the traction I’m riding the clutch My pressure plate’s burning that machine’s too much”)while this bonus Metaphor,"Beep Beep"by the Playmates (from their 1958 album At Play with the Playmates) is a marvelously-whimsical story of a proud Cadillac owner being bested by a working-class Nash Rambler, just as utilitarian Ford topped classy Ferrari back in 1966.
SHORT TAKES (spoilers also appear here)
The Good Liar (Bill Condon)rated R
In near-contemporary London an elderly con-man has 2 scams going, one to relieve a couple of guys of a lot of cash through a scam about fake investments/fake Russians, the other an attempt to rob a wealthy widow, but there are other twists making this more than a comedic (at times quite serious) caper starring 2 grandly-exquisite actors.
Here’s the trailer:
Before reading any further, I’ll ask you to refer to the plot spoilerswarning far above.
Roy Courtnay’s (Ian McKellen) an experienced con-man working 2 scams in 2009 London (not sure why the date matters): (1) Faking info on a dating site he prowls for rich widows, finds one in Betty McLeish (Helen Mirren), former history professor at Oxford, who seems immediately interested, even as she admits to minor strokes which may finish her off in about a year; (2) a phony investment scheme intended to swindle Brits Bryn (Mark Lewis Jones) and Beni (Lucian Msamati), encouraged to put up £50,000 each along with 2 Russians—the main one a big, bearded guy named Vlad (Jóhannes Haukur Jóhannesson)—being courted to contribute £800,000 for some development in the Caribbean. We’ll get back to the former in a minute; as for the latter, their meeting comes to an abrupt end after Bryn's crack about Putin, followed by another chance where Bryn and Beni up their antes to £100,000 each, transfer done, then Bryn hugs Vlad, feels a wire on him, thinks these “Russians” are cops (enhanced by screaming sirens outside), so Roy fakes a faint, Bryn and Beni rush away assuming Roy and “accountant” accomplice Vincent (Jim Carter) are arrested but in truth they’re working with these “Russians,” quickly withdraw what they transferred into the account, keeping the remaining £200,000 for themselves (Vlad, actually a Polish butcher, later demands a larger cut of the take only to have a couple of Roy’s thugs smash his left hand with a mallet). Regarding the widow-scheme, Roy meets Betty for dinner, charms her, fakes a bad knee to gain sympathy so she offers him a room in her suburban home until he’s more mobile, insisting grandson Steven (Russell Tovey) chauffeur him around, Steven increasingly suspicious of the old man’s advances on Grandma. Roy and Betty discuss a trip to Berlin, Paris, and Venice which he rushes her into right after Bryn notices him on a street, chases him down in a tube station to demand his money back, dies when Roy pushes him into an oncoming train. In Berlin Roy’s surprised to find Betty’s invited Steven to join them, especially when the young man takes them to an apartment where Roy must admit what happened there in 1948. Roy says he was in a British Intelligence unit, working with a young German translator, Hans Taub, trying to capture ex-Nazi Martin Geiger (Aleksandar Jovanovic), hiding in Berlin’s Russian sector. In the ensuing melee Roy says Hans was fatally shot, Geiger escaped (for awhile), but Steven’s done extensive research, forces Roy to admit he’s actually Hans (played in the flashback by Laurie Davidson) who took the identity of dead Brit Roy Courtnay (Phil Dunster) in order to escape Germany, start a new life in England. Betty’s surprised by all this but doesn’t see Hans/Roy as a war criminal, is willing to forgive his past actions, all to Steven’s disgust who’s encouraged to leave them alone. Back in England (rest of the trip cancelled), Betty agrees to the plan Roy and Vincent have cooked up, merging their assets (about £3 million each) into an account Vincent says will soon pay hefty dividends for both of them.
⇒Roy’ssuddenly "contacted" by his estranged son, Robert (who doesn't exist), asking Dad to come into the city for dinner; Roy begrudgingly agrees, with Betty’s encouragement. When he gets to his old flat, though, he finds he no longer has the keypad needed to access the new account so he rushes back to Betty’s, only to find most of the house bare with her waiting for him, keypad in hand (she’s already moved her money into another account, keeps adding £50,000 of his stash to her trove each time he lies to her). What he hasn’t realized, though, is back in 1943 Berlin she was also a teenager, Lili Schröder (Nell Williams), taking English lessons from young Hans Taub (Spike White)—clear to me she was “fond” of him, as they discuss decades later about terms of attraction—when one day she wasn’t quite ready for her lesson so he wandered into a room with her 3 sisters, became aggressive with them, then cornered Lili, raped her. Even without knowing the full harm to his daughters, Herr Schröder (Daniel Betts) banished Hans from their home, only to be denounced by him soon thereafter as a traitor, hung, with the distraught mother committing suicide, the sisters killed by a bomb just before WW II ended in Europe, then Lili was brutalized when the Russians took over her sector of Berlin. With Stephen’s (not really Betty’s grandson) extensive research skills Betty finally located Hans/Roy, plotted the relationship with him for revenge (including forcing Vincent to work with her), then cleaned out most of the rest of the account (leaving him £100,000 as she prepared to depart for good). He, of course, attacks her, but she’s soon saved by Beni and Vlad who proceed to beat Roy to just short of a pulp. In a final scene he’s in a hospital, visited by Vincent, unable to talk or move much, followed by Betty’s finale at her country estate celebrating with her many children and grandchildren, especially concerned about 3 of the girls, well aware of how life often carries unforeseen dangers which she wants to protect all of themfrom.⇐While the OCCU evaluators are much more restrained about ... Liar than Ford ...(RT 63% positive reviews, MC 55% average score)—audiences aren't flocking in either (despite playing in 2,454 domestic theaters) for a quiet total of $11.8 million after 2 weeks in release—I still found … Liar quite enjoyable, surprising in its plot twists (although I felt something had to happen to prevent Roy from just strolling away unscathed from all his devious actions), extremely well-acted by the well-established-stars along with their effective supporting players, something well worth your time if you’re interested in clever intrigue more so than rapid action (or a huge-budget animated musical).
However, if you’re more in need of a bit of a spiritual-uplift, or just something nonpartisan to defuse any family tensions over politics, religion, lifestyles, etc. that might surface during the annual Thanksgiving holiday celebrations, you might choose Tom Hanks as Mr. Rogers in A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (Marielle Heller; opened fairly big with $13.3 million domestically), which I’ll try to get to soon, although I think I’ve already seen at least a sense of it with the marvelous doc from much earlier this year, Won’t You Be My Neighbor?(Morgan Neville; review in our February 14, 2019 posting). Whatever you might choose for a group outing this weekend, I'll let you discuss it over my concluding Musical Metaphor remarks (in a surprisingly-accurate-version of Short Takes for a change) as I’ll also offer 2 songs for this movie, the first seemingly from Roy’s perspective to Betty, the Ray Charles rendition of “You Don’t Know Me” (inspired by Eddy Arnold for Cindy Walker to write in 1955; Ray’s version on his 1962 album Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music) athttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeD5lGIOs8s, especially because there are occasional visual hints Roy’s actually intrigued by Betty (despite being willing to fleece her): “And anyone can tell You think you know me well Well, you don’t know me,”only to finally be put in his place if she were singing Paul McCartney’s"I'm Looking Through You" (from The Beatles 1965 Rubber Soul album) to Roy:“I’m looking through you, where did you go I thought I knew you, what did I know You don’t look different, but you have changed I’m looking through you, you’re not the same.”But, things will always be the same at Film Reviews by Two Guys in the Dark so stay with us during this holiday season as we explore the hopeful-awards-contenders continuing to push each other around on the big screen (yet, for those of you with Netflix streaming the best option of the year so far’s now available as of Nov. 27, Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman [review in our November 21, 2019 posting]).
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If we did talk, though, you’d easily see how my early-70s-age informs my references, Musical Metaphors, etc. in these reviews because I’m clearly a guy of the later 20th century, not so much the contemporary world. I’ve come to accept my ongoing situation, though, realizing we all (if fate allows) keep getting older, we just have to embrace it, as Joni Mitchell did so well in "The Circle Game," offering sage advice even when she was quite young herself.
By the way, if you’re ever at The Hotel California knock on my door—but you know what the check out policy is so be prepared to stay for awhile. Ken
P.S. Just to show that I haven’t fully flushed Texas out of my system here’s an alternative destination for you, Home in a Texas Bar, with Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. But wherever the rest of my body may be my heart’s always with my longtime-companion, lover, and wife, Nina Kindblad, so here’s our favorite shared song—Neil Young’s "Harvest Moon"
—from the performance we saw at the Desert Trip concerts in Indio, CA on October 15, 2016 (as a full moon was rising over the stadium) because “I’m still in love with you,” my dearest, a never-changing-reality even as the moon waxes and wanes over the months/years to come.
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I invite you to join me on a regular basis to see how my responses to current cinematic offerings compare to the critical establishment, which I’ll refer to as either the CCAL (Collective Critics at Large) if they agree with me or the OCCU (Often Cranky Critics Universe) if they choose to disagree.
The Irishman (Martin Scorsese)rated R
“Executive Summary” (no spoilers):A somewhat (or more) fictionalized (hard to know how much, given it’s based on Charles Brandt’s nonfiction book “I Hear You Paint Houses”: Frank “The Irishman” Sheeran and the Closing of the Case on Jimmy Hoffa [using the mob code for “I hear you kill people,” which becomes even more ironic as Frank’s father, Thomas Francis Sheeran Jr., was a house painter]in which interviews with the actual Sheeran have him confessing many mob hitsfrom roughly 1955-‘75, including on Joey Gallo and Hoffa, even though only debated proofbacks up his most famous claims just as Sheeran spent no time in jail for any homicides, finally dying of cancer in 2003 in a Philadelphia nursing home) exploration of a mobster hitman’s life, his connections with the Teamsters labor union, his close friendship with notorious Teamsters head Jimmy Hoffa. Robert De Niro as Sheeran, Joe Pesci as his main mob connection, Russell Bufalino—don of northeast Pennsylvania’s (on to Atlantic City) “family”—and Al Pacino as Hoffa provide as much talent as you could want for any film, all still at the top of their games, along with terrific supporting actors such as Ray Romano, Bobby Cannavale, Harvey Keitel, and Anna Paquin, plus a huge, equally-effective-supporting-cast of wives, daughters, sons, other dons and their thuggish-associates (Frank’s properly shown as having married Mary Sheeran, had 3 girls with her, divorced in 1968, then married Irene Sheeran, with whom he had another daughter). You can get all the details you want about this film’s content from Internet searches of its actual primary characters, Brandt’s book, or other sources on the deadly circumstances permeating the lives of such powerful Mafia figures and labor leaders (including the general overlap of these “societies,” although only the Teamsters, not the vast realm of [most?] other union personnel, are implicated) with De Niro in quiet determination mode, always assuring you he’s in control of whatever task assigned, Pesci as more assertive but in a calmer manner than he’s famous for in other Scorsese films, allowing Pacino to be the explosive one, demanding his visions be realized even as his boldness conflicts with his Mafia partners. Although enjoying a limited release in a few theaters (I don't know how many, doesn’t even chart on Box Office Mojo) for awards consideration, it’ll mainly be found on Netflix streaming beginning Wed., November 27, so if you can stay awake for its 3½-hr. running time after your Thanksgiving dinner (assuming you’ll be too busy getting ready for that to watch The Irishman the previous day) settle down in front of the TV for what many predict will be a prime Oscar contender.
Here’s the trailer: (Use the full screen button in the image’s lower right to enlarge it; activate that same button on the full screen’s lower right or your “esc” keyboard key to return to normal size.)
If you can abide plot spoilers read on, but as this blog’s intended for those who’ve seen the film—or want to save some bucks—to help any of you who want to learn more details yet avoid important plot-reveals I’ll identify any give-away sentences/sentence-clusters like this:
⇒Thefirst and last words will be noted with arrows andred.⇐OK, now continue on if you prefer.
What Happens:(Given the hefty running time of this film [my review here may take almost that long to read, so settle in], you might want to be prepared for what you’d see [probably on Netflix] so you can more easily follow many events spanning several decades, so here’s a short video[6:59] on 5 key things to know about The Irishman, plus this video [11:13] on the actual Hoffa and Sheeran, verifying that a lot of what we see in Scorsese’s film is based on historical fact.) Beginning with a long dollying shot (like the marvelously-choreographed opening of Goodfellas [Scorsese, 1990]) through a nursing home (probably in 2003, when our protagonist dies) we enter the room of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) who tells us about his life, much of it as a Mafia “fixer” (generally killing someone as a hitman but also active in bodyguarding Teamsters president Jimmy Hoffa [Al Pacino], trying to keep this hothead from displeasing his mobster allies); thus, most of what we witness is in flashback. The first major one’s in 1975 as Frank, northeast Pennsylvania don Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci), and their wives are driving to Russell’s niece’s Detroit wedding—stopping constantly for the women’s cigarette breaks because Bufalino didn’t want them smoking in the car—but then we shift to 1955 (this earlier flashback leading to much of the film’s primary chronology, the plot occasionally returning to 1975) in the outskirts of Philadelphia when Frank and Russell met—truck-driver Sheeran’s having trouble with his rig so as he’s lost under the hood at a gas station Russell shows him how to adjust the timing belt—then later Frank’s previously-legal-life (not fully counting his extensive tour of duty during WW II when his unit invaded Italy, France, and Germany, Frank killing enemy POWs on orders; we see him force 2 Italian soldiers to dig their own grave, then he shoots them as they fall into it), including his marriage to Mary (Aleska Palladino), birth of their 3 daughters (he later divorces Mary, marries Irene [Stephanie Kurtzuba], has another daughter), takes a sharp turn when he notices local mobster Felix “Skinny Razor” DiTullio (Bobby Cannavale) enjoying a steak, arranges for some of the beef carcasses he hauls to make their way to DiTullio, followed by his arrest for this theft with some courtroom smoke-and-mirrors by Russell’s lawyer-brother, Bill (Ray Romano), getting the charges dismissed, after which Frank again meets Russell along with Philly mob boss Angelo Bruno (Harvey Keitel). Once the Sheeran-R. Bufalino connection’s made, Frank’s frequently called on to do some dirty work (we know he can be brutally-tough, based on his clandestine wartime experiences plus an early scene where he avenges a shopkeeper’s shove on his young daughter, Peggy [Lucy Gallina]) which almost goes wrong when he accepts a freelance job from Whispers (Paul Herman) to burn down a rival casinos/hotels laundry service in Atlantic City without first learning Angelo’s a part-owner of this rival, but Russell vouches for him, followed by Frank killing Whispers, setting him off on a long road of bloody assassinations.
Despite all of the above being almost enough to constitute a gangster movie by itself (further, I’ve left out a lot of not-so-crucial-details in this summary section of my review, so even more happens in this extensive plot, such as the time Jimmy Hoffa's [Al Pacino] almost killed in a courtroom [not really crucial because the attempt failed]), it’s all just a lead up to the main story which takes form in the late 1950s (although a major later event is Sheeran’s claim of killing big-time mobster “Crazy Joe” Gallo [Sebastian Maniscalco] in Manhattan’s Little Italy, supposedly catching him and his body guard off-guard at a restaurant birthday party, pulling off this dangerous hit by himself) as Frank becomes close with Hoffa, the head of the mob-affiliated Teamsters union, first proving his worth in dealing with a rival Chicago cabdrivers’ union by destroying their vehicles, some pushed into the river, most just burned up, then coming on as Hoffa’s frequent bodyguard. Later, we see the oft-cited-strategy of the IL Mafia getting John F. Kennedy elected President in 1960 by having stand-ins for dead people delivering the needed votes to put JFK over the top, but then both the mob and Hoffa are furious when Robert Kennedy’s appointed Attorney General, given his active crackdowns on all of their activities. Events move quickly in this film, so it helps to know some history of these times including Frank delivering a truckload of weapons in Florida to Cuban exiles who’d attempt the failed 1961Bay of Pigsinvasion of Cuba, intent on overthrowing Fidel Castro (the invaders seemingly backed by the mob, trying to re-establish their activities there under corrupt previous President Gen. Fulgencio Batista), TV coverage of the 1962Cuban MIssile Crisis, and the 1963 JFK assassination (hopefully, you don’t need a link for details about this national tragedy [or those others], but if sohere's one) with brief implications here the Mafia was involved as retaliation for his non-appreciation of their previous support. A more focused aspect of history in this film, though, involves Hoffa going to prison in 1967 for jury tampering, putting him in direct conflict with another Teamsters-mobster, “Tony Pro” Provenzano (Stephen Graham), a previous rival for Hoffa’s union post now jailed for extortion, although Jimmy’s main trouble was with his Teamsters replacement Frank Fitzsimmons (Gary Basaraba) depleting the huge pension fund by making too many loans to the mob. Upon his 1971 release via a pardon from Richard Nixon, Hoffa makes plans to retake control of the Teamsters, but his aggressive tactics bring quiet Mafia disapproval to Sheeran, at a testimonial in his honor, told by Bufalino to force Hoffa to cool his jets, a threat rejected by Jimmy when he claims he’s got enough dirt on the various dons to put them away if they plot against him.
⇒Afterall that (including a post-prison confrontation between Hoffa and “Tony Pro” in Florida at a failed-peacekeeping-attempt, essentially terminated by Hoffa when Tony not only arrives 15 min. late but also undignifies the occasion by showing up in shorts), we’re back in 1975 where Frank’s under the worst pressure yet (including near-rejection by adult daughter Peggy[Anna Paquin], upset with Dad’s true career, although she has no direct evidence of his many homicides) when he, Bufalino, and the wives stop short of Detroit for the night, then Russell tells Frank he’s going to fly into Detroit on a small plane the next morning to attend a supposed meeting with Hoffa and Provenzano, but in the process of this set-up he's to kill Hoffa. All goes as planned the next day, with Jimmy waiting at a restaurant where the meeting’s supposed to take place but then he’s picked up by Sal Briguglio (Louis Cancelmi) and Hoffa’s duped-stepson, Chuckie O’Brien (Jesse Plemons)—who also met Frank at a small Detroit airport—with Hoffa and Sheeran dropped off at a house where “Tony Pro” is supposed to be, only when they go inside no one's there, Frank pulls a gun on Hoffa, quickly kills him, leaves the weapon on the body as he’s driven away, flies back to where Russell and the wives are staying, then nonchalantly attends the wedding while in another part of town Hoffa’s body’s cremated, the gun disposed of. Over time, the surviving mobsters we’ve met all end up in jail (but not for Hoffa’s murder) where all but Frank die. We finish our acquaintance with him back at the nursing home where he has no one in his life (Peggy refuses to have anything to do with him; she was never comfortable around Russell either), assumes he’ll be dead soon, basically accepts who he is, what he’s done with his far-from-originally-intended-life.⇐
So What?Even more so than Once Upon a Time in Hollywood(Quentin Tarantino; review in our August 1, 2019 posting)—which runs a “mere” 161 min. with a production budget of about $96 million vs. The Irishman’s 209 min. (you know, much as I want to support my local theaters with encouragement to stock up on refreshments [the main way they pay their bills, as distribution companies take much of the ticket-sales-cash], you’ll have to decide for yourself how much your bladder can handle with no intermission nor any scenes you’d want to miss) and production costs of about $160 million (plus huge amounts in marketing for any film, except those the embarrassed studios try to forget as quickly as possible)—The Irishman takes a well-known-historical-event of the mid-20th-century, pulls you actively into its specifics (although itsticks to a combination of known facts plus other speculations many have found credible while Once … takes great liberties with history [as Tarantino’s been doing lately, so heed my usual spoiler warnings should you choose to visit my review of his Manson-murders-era-spectacle which may also be a contender during awards season, if its considerably earlier release—July 26, 2019 in the U.S.—doesn’t doom it to the Oscar-voters’-short-term-memories]), yet manages to keep you mesmerized with mostly low-key conversations between powerful underworld men plotting their various strategies (except, of course, in Hoffa’s scenes where his never-bending-ego allows him to constantly lash out with no remorse), punctuated by the occasional bombed-vehicle (usually cars but a yacht at one point) or close-up-assassination-hit by Sheeran. Unlike Scorsese’s previous gangster classics (Goodfellas, Casino [1995], The Departed [2006])—or even his powerful, historically-set (mid-19th century) gangster-prototype-epic, Gangs of New York (2002)—this one’s not packed with brutal action but instead is more contemplative, told from the perspective of an aged killer who has little regrets about his violent life (he was just successful at bottling up his emotions, allowing him to terminate others as simply a job handed down by an employer, usually leaving bodies in public places for maximum-intimidation-impact while efficiently throwing away his weapon into an appropriately-unexplored-part of a river [Frank notes the one he uses in/near Philly holds enough armaments to supply a small nation] so the hit’s never traced back to him, despite how well-known his reputation is among certain segments of the underworld), just wants to share it with us in a manner that lets us feel we’re interviewing him, a la Charles Brandt for the book inspiring this dramatized-history-lesson (although we do see Sheeran being questioned by police detectives at times, but to them he’s still not willing to confess anything useful even if practically everyone he’s worked with is already dead).
Yet, there’s a sense of loss on Frank’s part, what gave his life meaning is long gone (along with his family, apparently, as we see less of them as the plot progresses), just as some see this film as an eulogy for the gangster movie itself (not that we don’t still have plenty of gangsters in our society—some of them apparently running the U.S. government, although others are now serving prison sentences or are under investigation thanks to the Mueller Report and the Trump impeachment hearings) as with San Francisco Chronicle’sMick LaSalle(whom I’ve taken to task in recent reviews, simply because I slightly know him so I have some sense of what I’m complaining about in his opinions, although I also agree when I find him insightfully-correct, as with this film) noting how The Irishman deconstructs the supposed glamor of the cinematic gangster just as John Ford’s marvelous The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence(1962) undercuts the previous mythology of the western (although it would take more-violent-“sermons” such as The Wild Bunch [Sam Peckinpah, 1969], Little Big Man [Arthur Penn, 1970], and especially Unforgiven [Clint Eastwood, 1992] to give that genre a proper burial, even if isolated, notable examples occasionally emerge, such as the remakes of 3:10 to Yuma [James Mangold, 2007], True Grit [Ethan and Joel Coen, 2010]but with little of the heroic bravado associated with such formerly-hallowed-frontier-stories).This link(10:35) offers us other insights on what critics are saying about The Irishman, including its Oscar possibilities with the key performances of De Niro and Pacino, the perfect match of director and source material, and the computer-generated-de-aging process on the main players allowing us to see these guys (rather than simply using younger actors) as they would have looked years ago (more on that shortly). However, as with the films I reviewed inour previous posting, Jojo Rabbit(Taika Waititi) and Where’s My Roy Cohn?(Matt Tyrnauer), I didn’t initially come away from The Irishman saying “This is a masterpiece” (as does LaSalle and one of my screening companions) possibly because, based on previous Scorsese Mafia stories I was expecting something more aggressive than contemplative. In his extensive career there have been some classic examples of visceral/violent films, even the ones (unlike his mobster-debut, Mean Streets[1973])not specifically focused on gangsters, including Taxi Driver(1976),Raging Bull(1980), Cape Fear(1991), Shutter Island (2010), so it’s reasonable to expect such from him getting into gangster territory again (especially in a story about an acknowledged hitman, culminating in the death of Jimmy Hoffa), but despite the familiar landscape this exploration of the mob is largely subtle, restrained even when being vicious, thoughtful about how the past keeps intruding on the present, forcing us to dial back our expectations (mine, at least) in order to fully appreciate the overall subdued tone of this work, interrupted at times by the necessity (within this mad strata of society) of harsh, cruel acts so some form of order can be maintained, even if it’s grimly-arbitrary how that order's now been established.
In gangster films of recent decades made famous by Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola we’ve come to expect situations of uncompromising expectations of loyalty even as treachery, retaliation, and the ever-present disruptions from arrests/convictions by the law leave us wary of whom to trust, anxious about how protagonists we’re conditioned to sympathize with might be undone by schemers intent on taking over a territory, constantly in a state of suspended-tension knowing guns can quickly be pulled out, put to murderous use. In Mean Streets we can easily feel for struggling Charlie Cappa (Keitel), a debt-collector for his unsavory uncle, further burdened by trying to keep his hot-tempered friend,“Johnny Boy” Civello (De Niro), out of trouble leading to physical/legal problems for both of them. In Goodfellas Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) is seduced by the gangster lifestyle yet we see how it constantly overwhelms him as demands on his life, murders all around him, drug-addiction and arrests, attempted assassination by former-comrade “Jimmy the Gent” Conway (De Niro) leave Henry a beaten man serving out his life in the witness protection program. Casino allows De Niro (as Sam “Ace” Rothstein—so now he’s been Italian, Jewish, and Irish in these various incarnations) to be the protagonist working effectively for the mob in Las Vegas but constantly undercut by the actions of his bosses, his irrational friend Nicky Santoro (Pesci), and his unfaithful wife Ginger (Sharon Stone) as his casino life ends with corporations becoming the new Vegas landlords. Meanwhile, in The Godfather and The Godfather Part II(Coppola; 1972, 1974) we have every reason to show some respect to dedicated patriarch/family man Vito Corleone (older, Marlon Brando; younger, De Niro) even as he carefully rules over a criminal empire, shows his own need for vengeance in … II by returning to Sicily in 1923 as a young adult to personally kill Don Ciccio (Guiseppe Sillato), responsible for the murders of his family in 1901, after establishing himself as the new power in Manhattan’s Little Italy in 1920 by eliminating the vile localBlack Handchief, Fanucci (Gastone Moschin). Despite this occasional vicious streak, Vito’s loved by his personal family, respected—as far as it ever goes, depending on emerging circumstances—by other Mafia “families,” seen by us as a loss when old age overtakes him. While his son Michael (Pacino) evolves from war hero to ruthless don across the first 2 Godfathers we understand, at first, how his actions are for protection of his family until he becomes obsessed with killing all his “enemies,” so he ultimately emerges as a rather tragic figure in The Godfather Part III (1990) having lost his wife, previously ordered the killing of his brother Fredo (John Cazale), tries to renounce his Mafia life only to see his daughter Mary (Sofia Coppola) shot dead in his arms by an assassination attempt on him.
(The computer-based de-aging process as applied to Robert De Niro.
Sorry, I've got no control over the separate colorations here.)
However, despite the manner in which these way-above-average-gangster-stories from 2 gifted Italian-American directors have become part of cinema legend of recent decades, I sense none of the implied grandeur of at least some aspects of this previously-established-criminal-lifestyle in The Irishman(also giving Pacino a chance to be Irish, just like Jack Nicholson in The Departed [more on that shortly]); rather, it’s a film of gritty business as usual run by thugs who’ve come to power by outlasting other thugs, the survivors focused only on whatever it takes to keep surviving, often relying on the services of an amoral expert in homicide such as Frank Sheeran, who can spend years as the close friend of someone (as was the case with him and Hoffa) then quickly carry out a hit on said friend just out of loyalty to the life he’s become enmeshed in (possibly along with the knowledge that failure to do as instructed would likely lead to his demise instead). Unlike some of the protagonists I noted in the above paragraph, men who kill as part of their lifestyle as well as to avenge whatever personal wrongs have befallen them, who, at best, can be understood as tragic figures in the Shakespearian sense overcome by some combination of hubris and circumstances, no one in The Irishman evoked the slightest bit of sympathy in me, even Frank who made his initial decisions in order to better financially support his wife and daughters but then embraced his willingness to kill on command in order to secure some sense of accomplishment in life, even as Scorsese continues to remind us what a miserable life that truly is with the constant freeze-frames of various hoods killed during the main block of time presented in this film even though none (as best we understand) were taken out by Sheeran, instead by other hitmen of whom there seems to be an abundance when situations demand such actions by the various Mafia dons to maintain control of their various territories or to take command just as royal lines of succession in Europe could be disrupted by a successful (violent) usurper. The matter-of-fact-attitude of The Irishman in showing the dreary, deadly nature of gangster life in mid-20th-century-America is a combination of sad, depressing, shocking, off-putting elements, just as I’m sure it’s intended to be. Though I wasn’t as immediately impressed with it as I have been with previous films (not many, I’m proud to say) gaining my rarely-assigned 4½ stars-rating (even fewer contemporary offerings at the rarified 5 stars-level; consult the Summary of Two Guys Reviews in the Related Links section farther below for the names), probably because, based on what I’d seen in previous Scorsese gangster films, I assumed I’d be seeing something else so when those expectations failed to (mostly) materialize, I knew I’d seen something powerful, something exquisitely well-produced, but possibly not the finest film of the year (as my previous 4½ stars-honorees have been), like many reviews had prompted me to believe.
Yet, upon further consideration, I’ve come to (hopefully) better see what Scorsese’s after here, including some sense of eulogy toward the gangster genre (for him, probably; these specific lead actors, almost certainly, especially Pesci, dragged out of retirement for this likely-final-role), although in regard to this being some sort of quiet farewell to a formula long serving the American cinema along with generations of appreciative audiences (just like the aforementioned … Liberty Valence), I’ll note in regard to my other comments about the lengthy-demise of the western, American cinema’s most characteristic (thematic conflicts of order vs. chaos, civilization vs. wilderness, more poetically “garden” vs. “desert”), most long-lived genre, as the deconstruction of this hallowed myth of the Old West (full of Manifest Destiny implications) in … Liberty Valence wasn’t truly the end of the genre we’d known but rather the beginning of the end because (for me) the most effective statement (despite its much greater level of violence compared to … Valence) is Unforgiven, similarly, while The Irishman in its (mostly) quiet manner gives us a calm sense of the recognition of how the gangster genre’s also served its function (celebrating the rugged entrepaneur refusing to abide by society’s strict expectations, a person who—as protagonist of these stories rather than necessary antagonist in police or detective dramas—lives outside the law but still represents some nobility of purpose, even if we must ultimately agree society cannot survive driven by such anarchistic attitudes) at a time where criminality’s poisoned politics, government, business, the military, the church so that celebrating criminals becomes a dangerous aspect of our entertainment lives, we can also see Scorsese’s already given us the more brutal aspect of the final (?) episodes of the gangster film with The Departed where the “integrity” of the both law and mob is compromised by “moles” within each organization, Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) as a special investigator of organized crime even though he’s there to aid his unofficial godfather, mob boss Frank Costello (Nicholson) just as true cop Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) sneaks his way into Costello’s gang as trust on the organizational and interpersonal levels is completely undermined while people are brutally killed all over the place as the rats either work their evil or are on the verge of discovery; in the end, our intended heroes die as does Costello, with Sullivan killed too—for personal vengeance—by ex-cop Sean Dignam (Mark Wahlberg). Except for the outcomes of these vendettas, there’s little hope in The Departed for anything resembling honor on either side of the law, just (mostly failed) determination for survival. Scorsese’d already shown us the bleak aftermath of the demise of any sort of nobility in the gangster genre back in 2006, he just waited until now to give us the quieter announcement of the (possible) passing of yet-another-American-movie-staple.
(Not a great shot in terms of resolution, but I wanted to get Harvey Keitel in here somewhere.)
Bottom Line Final Comments:As noted so far above I can barely remember where, I can’t offer any info on theatrical audience response to The Irishman because either it’s playing in too few venues for Box Office Mojo to even track or maybe they don’t follow something playing in such limited release (mostly for Oscar-nomination-consideration) which is actually intended for streaming, as you’ll be able to find it on Netflix starting Nov. 27, 2019 (where I’ll definitely see it again, even if I have to split it over a couple of nights, because my wife, Nina, and I—both likely needing to move along more quickly on getting hearing tests as our ages continue to advance—had considerable trouble hearing all the dialogue in many of the scenes so we look forward to filling in the missing pieces with captions [we don’t fault the sound mix because all of those restrained-volume-scenes—by what TV’s Seinfeld characters would call “low talkers”—were justified by their circumstances of people needing to be discreet so it would have been unnatural for the sound level to have been as loud as in the other direct-conversation-exchanges, but we admit we missed a lot, especially over the course of 3½ hours]). Another reason I look forward to seeing it again (along with appreciation for what it accomplishes, which could easily result in Oscar noms for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay [Steven Zailian], Best Actor [De Niro], Best Supporting Actor [Pacino, maybe also Pesci], Film Editing [Thelma Schoonmaker], possibly other areas as well) is to refresh my memory on all the components because I couldn't scribble my usual reminders during the screening (simple problem: forgot my combo flashlight/pen), so while on the one hand I was able to just enjoy what I was seeing without trying to constantly take notes I now have nothing to verify what I saw, plus in trying to remember key elements by silently repeating them to myself I may have forgotten/overlooked others which would prove to be even more important (my thanks to Wikipedia for posting a decent summary of their own; without that my What Happens segment would have been considerably shorter). I have no idea if The Irishman’s playing in a theater near you, but if so I highly encourage you to devote time, ticket money, and whatever necessary travel you’d require to see it on the big screen—I’m actively joined by the CCAL in this with Rotten Tomatoes presenting 95% positive reviews, Metacritic offering a 94% average score (just 1 lower than their 95% for Parasite [Bong Joon-ho; review in our October 31, 2019 posting], highest of all 2019 releases both they and I have reviewed; more details on both in the Related Links section just below)—although Netflix offers an easy viewing option, even if you want to sign up for just 1 month.
So, we’ve now reached the end of my blabbering about The Irishman—one of the great cinematic accomplishments of 2019, even if you have to end up seeing it on a relatively-small-screen (But, please, no phones! It deserves better than that!)—with only my standard reference to a Musical Metaphor to finish up what I can deliver to you. I guess one possibility might have been “In the Still of the Night” (by the Five Satinsfrom their 1957 album The Five Satins Sing) because Scorsese uses it 3 times here, matching in 1 film his use of the Rolling Stones’ "Gimme Shelter"(from their 1969 album Let It Bleed; I don’t know when this live performance occurred but I used it because of its length [9:04] in deference to the massive running time of The Irishman), but, honestly, “In the Still of the Night” doesn’t offer lyrics that really comment usefully on what occurs in the whole of The Irishman(it’s just a useful mood-setter for the scenes it accompanies on the soundtrack) while “Gimme Shelter” has nothing really to do with this film but given this is a Scorsese gangster story I thought it ought to be in here somewhere because he’s used it previously in Goodfellas, Casino, and The Departed (further, I never get tired of hearing it, even though I’ve used it as a Musical Metaphor 4 times before). However, a truly-relevant Metaphor choice here is Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” (written by Paul Anka, on Sinatra’s 1969 My Way album) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_SixH-y8wI(live performance, London, 1970) because of Frank’s reputed (I’m being tactful) connections with the mob, the reality of him and De Niro being Italian-Americans (despite the Irish role), and the appropriate tenor (Wasn’t that Sinatra’s vocal range? If not, wasted pun.) of lyrics as they apply to Frank (Sheeran, but probably Sinatra as well):“And now, the end is near And so I face the final curtain[…] Regrets, I’ve had a few But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do And saw it through without exemption[…]Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew When I bit off more than I could chew But through it all, when there was doubt I ate it up and spit it out[…] The record shows I took the blows And did it my way.”Sheeran may not have actually done all he claimed(“To think I did all that And may I say not in shy way”), but whatever he did in service to the mob Scorsese’s given us a slyly-riveting-version of his life which definitely makes for a fine film no matter what the facts may be. (Sparing us the usual “Based On A True Story” opening assertion for such biopics, although given how the opening titles are arranged you’d easily believe this film’s called I Hear You Paint Houses, so I guess that opening could have said “Based On What I Found In A Book. True? Dunno.” Although some would title this film Don't Always Believe What You See.)
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4-Ko2KyPko (29:13 interview with producers Emma Tillinger Koskoff and Jane Rosenthal, director Martin Scorsese, actors Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci [sound quality improves quickly after slightly murky start])
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If we did talk, though, you’d easily see how my early-70s-age informs my references, Musical Metaphors, etc. in these reviews because I’m clearly a guy of the later 20th century, not so much the contemporary world. I’ve come to accept my ongoing situation, though, realizing we all (if fate allows) keep getting older, we just have to embrace it, as Joni Mitchell did so well in "The Circle Game," offering sage advice even when she was quite young herself.
By the way, if you’re ever at The Hotel California knock on my door—but you know what the check out policy is so be prepared to stay for awhile. Ken
P.S. Just to show that I haven’t fully flushed Texas out of my system here’s an alternative destination for you, Home in a Texas Bar, with Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. But wherever the rest of my body may be my heart’s always with my longtime-companion, lover, and wife, Nina Kindblad, so here’s our favorite shared song—Neil Young’s "Harvest Moon"
—from the performance we saw at the Desert Trip concerts in Indio, CA on October 15, 2016 (as a full moon was rising over the stadium) because “I’m still in love with you,” my dearest, a never-changing-reality even as the moon waxes and wanes over the months/years to come.
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