The Irishman is a 2019 crime drama about a mob hitman who recalls his possible involvement with the slaying of Jimmy Hoffa.
I’m going to skip the knee-jerk reaction surrounding Martin Scorsese‘s new film The Irishman where most comment on the extensive digital de-aging most of the leads undergo. It’s a thing that’s happening in movies these days, it’s in its infancy, and it is what it is. You either let it distract you and be an excuse to not accept what you’re watching or you get past it and instead let it about the story and characters, and in the case of this Netflix release, ultimately one of the best movie experiences of the year.
It follows the life and times of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), known as ‘The Irishman’, once a hardworking union truck driver and former soldier in World War II, who gets involved with the Bufalino crime family when he meets a guy named Russell (Joe Pesci), a mafia bigwig. Over the next several decades, Frank becomes enmeshed in the family, being enforcer and more, where now, as an aged man in a nursing home, he recounts his connection to and the disappearance of Teamsters’ leader Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino).
At three and a half hours, there’s a lot to take in, Scorsese clearly given free reign to make the movie he wants, casting many of his old standbys in delivering a truly epic film that recalls the legendary director’s golden age while keeping pace with a couple of modern trends. That makes The Irishman a unique watch, a purposefully paced work of real cinema that soaks itself in colorful historical characters held together by a collection of top drawer performances all orchestrated by a filmmaker with innovation still running in his blood.
At the center of this is De Niro, who has for some time, found himself on all ends of the acting spectrum in movies that perhaps he might better have avoided. However, with Scorsese giving him the room he needs, De Niro settles into a role that feels raw and deliberately jagged, able to make a glance across the room as impactful as a kick from his heel up close. He’s matched by Pacino and especially Harvey Keitel, these three, old acting partners filling the small screen with big screen boom. These are guys who, for a few generations, changed the entire face of cinema. It’s easy to see why by the time credits roll here.
Based on the 2004 book I Heard You Paint Houses by Charles Brandt, Scorese’s adaptation is an old school big budget gangster movie with plenty of recognizable Scorsese flair and excess, peppered with authentic archival footage and reenactments and a few fourth wall breaks. That, along with a number of clever and imaginative moments, including details of the fates of many players told with somber but bold on screen text, makes this a film bursting with style. So, while the credibility of Sheeran’s involvement as confessed in Brandt’s book has met with plenty of skepticism, it’s really no matter in letting the film play with the story and more so, getting these men together in bringing it all to life.
While the elder men – De Niro and Pacino both in their nearing 80 – can’t conceal the effects of time, leaving some moments where De Niro especially is supposed to be playing half that not so convincing, despite the computer effects, it’s easy to forgive in the aftermath of what is no less than grand movie making, the film a sweeping endeavour that feels like a taste of the old days. We’re not meant to find all the historical answers in all this, only to absorb a movie that tasks you with exploring how it masterfully tells its story, how it spills over the brim with atmosphere and attention to detail, how it invites you into its tragedy and humor, and confirms, for those that care, movies still matter. Highly recommended.