It
was a long time in gestation. The Irishman, also known as I Heard You
Paint Houses (the original title and also the name of the book by Charles
Brandt upon which it is based), is Martin Scorsese’s career-defining epic of a
gangster film that is, more or less, a “best of†anthology of everything that
gave the filmmaker’s crime pictures their buzz. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t
unique and full of surprises.
At
approximately 3-1/2 hours with no intermission, The Irishman is not only
the longest picture Scorsese ever made, but also the most expensive. The key
attraction to audiences is the combination of its powerhouse stars—Robert De
Niro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci. Throw in Harvey Keitel, Ray Romano, Bobby
Cannavale, Stephen Graham, and even Steven Van Zandt (as crooner Jerry Vale!), then
you have the makings of a gangster movie crème a la crème. (There are
also some women in it in the form of Anna Paquin and Stephanie Kurtzuba, but
they portray decidedly second fiddle players to the boys.)
The
Irishman was
shown in the U.S. exclusively on Netflix (aside from a few theatrical exhibitions
to qualify for Oscar consideration). It was (mostly) critically well-received,
but there were audience members who felt it was too long. Not this reviewer. For
me it was akin to settling in with an increasingly absorbing novel that
revealed its secrets, page by page. Nevertheless, perhaps it might have
played more effectively as a three-part mini-series.
It’s
the allegedly “true†story of Irishman Frank Sheeran (De Niro), a hitman for
the Philadelphia mob run by Russell Bufalino (Pesci). The phrase, “I heard you
paint houses,†is a euphemism for “I heard you kill people for money,†and
that’s how the two men are introduced. Eventually, Sheeran becomes involved
with Teamsters union boss Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino) and they become friends. History
plays its deadly hand, though, and the mob ultimately decides that Hoffa is
more trouble than he’s worth. Sheeran gets handed the task to betray his friend
and whack him.
When
all is said and done, The Irishman is about remorse. It’s the story of a
man who ignored morality until it is way too late. At a time of his life when
he’s seeing the approaching end—when he’s old, alone, and living in a nursing
home—that’s when he finally comes to grips with what he’s done.
It’s
powerful stuff. The Irishman, when absorbed in a non-rushed,
no-distractions environment, is pure Greek drama filtered through an Italian
and Irish lens that could only be manufactured in a land called America.
Of
course, the performances are what carry the movie. All three main actors are
fabulous (Pacino and Pesci received Supporting Actor Oscar nominations, and
Pesci, in particular, for this reviewer’s money, steals the movie). The
sometimes-maligned digital visual effects that de-aged the actors are actually quite
remarkable—the result looks exceptionally better on Blu-ray than it did on
Netflix! The film was nominated for a total of ten Oscars, including Picture
and Director, but won none.
The
Criterion Collection has thankfully been releasing many of the made-for-Netflix
movies (the company recently released the same year’s Marriage Story).
Criterion’s edition of The Irishman is top-notch. The 2-disk package
contains the movie in a beautiful 4K digital master (approved by Scorsese) with
a Dolby Atmos soundtrack. An entire disk of supplements contain the roundtable
conversation between Scorsese, De Niro, Pacino, and Pesci that originally
appeared on Netflix; a fascinating documentary on the making of film featuring
all the key personnel in front of and behind the camera; a new video essay by
film critic Farran Smith Nehme examining Scorsese’s formal style; Scorsese
narrating an Anatomy of a Scene; a featurette on the visual effects;
excerpted interviews or film footage of the real Frank Sheeran and Jimmy Hoffa;
and the trailer and teaser. An essay by critic Geoffrey O’Brien appears in the
booklet.
The
Irishman is
a picture that will become richer with further scrutiny. Don’t let your single
viewing on Netflix inform your judgement. It’s one of several Martin Scorsese
masterpieces that will get under your skin and stay there, and the new
Criterion edition provides the opportunity to explore it in depth.