Review: "The Irishman" is the Great Gangster Movie to End All Gangster Movies

Scene from The Irishman (2019)

With The Irishman, director Martin Scorsese has made the gangster movie to end all gangster movies. He has made a career of exploring the criminals who have gotten rich off of shady deals and violent discourse, leaving behind nothing but misery for everyone else. After pushing limits with films like Mean Streets, Goodfellas and The Wolf of Wall Street, he has taken on the elder statesman role in 2019 to discuss how a life of crime may seem rewarding at first but inevitably ends in a sadness that can't be escaped. As much as the 3.5-hour running time feels at times taxing, drawing out small moments that feel interminable, the result is to create an epic about a man learning to realize his own flaws only to realize that they come too late. It's a story about loyalty and aging in the ways that only Scorsese can get away with. While the results are less flashy than his aforementioned masterpieces, this is the final chapter in a cautionary tale that has defined his work from the beginning. With a cast of incredible actors at the top of their game, The Irishman may be overlong, but it's all in an attempt to cheat death. It's horrifying and immersive, leaving the audience with a powerful gut punch that is too bittersweet to forget.

A recurring theme throughout The Irishman is the sense of death. It seems to exist for everyone except protagonist Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) who begins the story wasting away at a retirement home. He shares the story about how he went from meat truck driver to hitman to friends with famed union leader Jimmy Hoffa (Al Capone). In some ways he was the grim reaper in human form, constantly popping guns in people's faces and blowing up enough cars to make Michael Bay blush. Where he walked destruction followed. There is a recurring motif throughout the film of secondary characters being introduced with title cards. Before audiences know their name, the card reads how they died. The morbid idea feels ridiculous, especially as none of these characters exist for more than a scene, creating this world where Frank is so surrounded by death that he can only think of his life through what's passed onto the next world.

Which in a way adds irony to his own story. Death has come for everyone except him, leaving him to contemplate what he's done. In one of his many flashbacks, it takes a literal meaning as he drives down memory lane, sparking the thought of how he met longtime friend Russell Buffalino (Joe Pesci). It's a simple enough moment shot at a roadside gas station, but it defines another theme within the film: loyalty. Russell is slow to give Frank the courtesy of his name even as he helps him fix a car. It's the type of logic that the film lives in, as everyone is only as useful as what favors that they give each other. It's why Hoffa is so fond of Frank, whom he bonds within between jail stints and attempted murders on his life. Frank is the only man who could get close to Hoffa, and it's a bond that becomes tragic before it's over. To go deeper, Hoffa's love of unions could be read as the theme on a literal level of loyalty with Hoffa believing that giving that up gives up a reason to live. 

Even implicitly, the film works because of who's involved. As a story of an aging hitman, it would only work if there was a subtext to each actor involved. It couldn't have been made by too many other filmmakers with any other actor. It needs Pesci reminding audiences of Goodfellas. It needs De Niro and Pacino reminding audiences of The Godfather series. These are core film texts in American cinema, and to see similar archetypes come to terms with their mortality becomes powerful because of each actor's legacy. That is why the choice to use de-aging technology is more than a gimmick. It's a necessity that works wonders in making De Niro and Pesci especially have an uncanny resemblance to their younger selves, exploring a world with nostalgia and regret. It helps that every actor still manages to deliver some of Scorsese's most emotional material to date. In the case of De Niro, the third act serves as his finest work since, well, the last time he worked with Scorsese on Goodfellas almost 30 years ago. Even with his stolid appearance, his quest for understanding becomes heartbreaking even as he's lost all redemption.

Behind the camera, Scorsese has rarely been this restrained. In a decade that has included the excess and depravity of The Wolf of Wall Street, it's strange to see him calm down just a bit. This isn't to say that the film lacks his usual riveting moments. The film is full of hilarious yet vulgar exchanges of men trying to express masculinity to hide their vulnerability. And yet for every explosion and shot to the face, there are quieter moments that the director feels more obsessed with. It's why scenes of De Niro and Pacino talking in a room are far more powerful than the action set pieces. They have a natural charisma that makes you want to see these two men escape their dangerous lifestyles and be normal. They can't, in part because they forced themselves into this life. It's why they trust each other so much, believing that they're hopeless without the other. It's the story of friendship and one that becomes complicated as real-life events come into play. Most viewers will know how Hoffa dies in real life, but what gives the cinematic equivalence power is the body count that precedes him, including his sworn enemy President Kennedy. With each passing murder both on screen and in text, it feels like Hoffa moves closer to god-tier, and Frank moves further away from his own morality believing the same.

While De Niro carries the movie effortlessly, the best performances are the quieter ones that are easy to overlook. The most noteworthy is Pesci, whose Russell is a voice of reason. He tries to guide Frank onto a more normal path and does so without ratcheting up his anger as the actor did in Casino. Here he's subdued, delivering concern and a moral compass that you wish Frank would just listen to as he drives further away from it. The reclusive actor is deserving of more praise over his heftier counterparts, and one hopes he gets an acting nomination. Meanwhile, Frank's daughter Peggy (Anna Paquin) represents the slow pull away from the family that Frank faces throughout the story. Because she is just a child, she can't be more than an observer, slowly using her power by not giving in to his dangerous lifestyle. Because of how distant the role is, it becomes more heartbreaking to not see her talk, to see her have an agency in the story. It's because this is Frank's realization that he can't have everything in life. Family or crime is not interchangeable.

The Irishman is a film that requires far more patience than any other film this year. It's true that this is because of its long-running time, but it's also because Scorsese has mastered the slow burn. The first hour, while enjoyable, doesn't spring to mind a masterpiece. It's more establishing character and tone in a way that will make the final 45 minutes some of his best work as a director. Gone is the filmmaker who did rapid cuts, telling stories that moved quickly through ideas. He still has a taste for humor and small character moments, but they feel more mature here. This is a story of an old man looking back on life, so it's skewed for the moments he wishes to remember best to play out as if it's the only happiness he still has. All that Frank has by the end of the film are memories, and the literal depiction of a car ride helps to symbolize that for the audience. What did all of that crime get him? As the first shot will suggest, not much once his own mortality kicked in. Whether intentional or not, Scorsese closes out his exploration of gangster culture with an epic that evades the tropes and goes on a quest for honesty and soul searching. It's tragic when it's found, but gets to the sad side of a story that's often been glorified for its lavish lifestyle.

The good news is that those wanting to see some of the greatest actors of their generation give one last great performance, this film delivers it beautifully. Every actor feels rejuvenated here, giving rare performances that escape the de-aging technology and get to the heart of their careers. For the first time, the archetypes that define De Niro, Pesci, and Pacino's careers feel worn on their sleeves, allowing audiences to understand what was previously subtext. Some of it may seem a bit excessive and pointlessly drawn out, but it all leads to a portrait of growing old and regretting your past that most gangster movies have. They're just too cocky to tell you. This is a film that requires patience and thought, allowing the film to resonate with every frame even after it has ended. It's tragic, but it's also funny and finds Scorsese proving that he still has something to say about gangster movies. If he has anything else after this however, it will be one of the greatest surprises in cinematic history.