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Martin Scorsese was born on November 17, 1942 in New York City — a metropolis that would go on to have a profound effect on the filmmaker’s creative output. He is one of modern cinema’s defining auteurs, and in honor of the director’s 73rd birthday, we’ve declared it Scorsese Week here at Decider. Click here to follow our coverage.
In the 1989 interview book, Scorsese On Scorsese, the director reflected on a statement made by then-newish-kid-on-the-block Jim Jarmusch, whose movies were and remain somewhat more slower-paced and deliberate, and objective, than Scorsese’s: “[Jarmusch] said something like, ‘I’m not interested in taking people by the hair and telling them where to look.’ Well, I do want them to see the way I see. Walking down the street, looking quickly about, tracking, panning, zooming, cutting and all that sort of thing. I like it when two images go together and they move.”
In the years since that book was compiled, an entire new generation or two of moviemakers and movie watchers have created and partaken in a cinema that looks about even more quickly. Some of Scorsese’s stylistic hallmarks have ended up informing so-called “chaos cinema” as much as video games and music videos have, but Scorsese’s nobody’s idea of a moviemaking villain. However, as the critical response to Wolf of Wall Street—some of it coming from folks who weren’t even born when Scorsese on Scorsese first came out—testifies, the director is still capable of being misunderstood. Wolf isn’t a celebration of its thieving misogynist protagonists, but it appreciates the neck-snapping speedy heedlessness of their lives, and Scorsese’s cinematic style is, in this film and many others, recklessly immersive. It’s one of the reasons he remains both celebrated and controversial.
When you’re getting ready to watch a Martin Scorsese picture—be that for the first or the millionth time—here are six things you ought to keep in mind.
Forget About Heroes
There’s a double-edged sword at work in the Scorsese ethic. He wants the viewers to see as he sees, but quite frequently his eyes are aligned with protagonists one wouldn’t normally “want” to spend time with. You hear this a lot about Raging Bull, which famously compelled legendary critic Pauline Kael to muse out loud, re the brothers Jake and Joey La Motta, played by Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, “What am I doing here watching these two dumb fucks?”
Well, that’s certainly one way of putting it. The fact that Scorsese’s protagonists were frequently played by one-time King of Cool De Niro makes the problem knottier. As Edward Norton said to me in a conversation about Taxi Driver, “It’s not the movie people think it is,” e.g., a picture about a troubled guy who winds up some kind of urban vigilante.
It’s also too simplistic to say that Scorsese trucks in antiheroes rather than heroes; his characters don’t seek to provide models the way, say, James Dean’s Jim in Rebel Without A Cause might have. Scorsese protagonists are by and large troubled human beings who are NOT here to provide teachable moments in doing the right thing, or lessons in dating etiquette for that matter. (See also: After Hours.) The closest thing to a conventional hero offered in a Scorsese picture is “Fast” Eddie Felson in The Color Of Money, which is a sequel to the classic The Hustler and also star forever King of Cool Paul Newman, so go figure.
Just Go With It
Scorsese’s movies are very smart, but with few exceptions—the highly analytical Casino, which critiques capitalism both in the betting arena and the bedroom, being a notable one—they aren’t particularly intellectual. They are both emotional and sensational, and (with puzzle movie Shutter Island being a notable exception) not interested in conundrums. As genteel as the world of The Age Of Innocence is, little details like the snipping of cigar ends in the drawing room are meant to sting, and they do. Watch now, unpack later—and there will be a lot to unpack.
Not A Classic Rock Person? You Might Have A Hard Time
Scorsese’s breakout feature, Mean Streets, is one of the pioneers of the pop-songs-as-music-soundtrack movie. (Another, George Lucas’ American Graffiti, came out the same year, 1973.) This is all well and good as it goes—hell, the use of “Layla” in Goodfellas practically redefined the song—but Scorsese’s taste, good as it is, has not progressed much beyond The Clash. If his cup of tea is yours, you’ll enjoy, and the music docs he’s made, including The Last Waltz (The Band) and Shine A Light (The Stones) will make your day.
"Matching Is For Pussies"
Scorsese is as much a creature of avant-garde film and the French New Wave as he is of classical and maverick Hollywood. This is worth remembering whenever you get the temptation to play Gaffe Squad with his pictures. Yes, there is a continuity error involving an overturned table in the beginning of Raging Bull. The above quote is apocryphal, attributed to Scorsese’s long-time editor Thelma Schoonmaker. It’s not that the filmmakers are in principle opposed to flawless, invisible editing. It’s just that when the choice is between emotional impact and “proper” continuity, Scorsese is always gonna go with the former. Believe us, he KNOWS the “mistake” is there. He’s just decided it’s worth it.
Anticipate A Deeply Religious Experience
From Harvey Keitel’s putting his finger to the candle flame at the beginning of Mean Streets onward, obsessions with morality, the afterlife, the idea of a loving God, and more, are defining themes in Scorsese’s movies. In a sense, Taxi Driver and Raging Bull and The King of Comedy are movies in which the hell the characters experience is at least partially determined by a lack of spiritual life. Kundun, George Harrison: Living In The Material World, and The Last Temptation of Christ all treat spirituality interacting with flesh and blood.
Beware Of Flashbulbs
Scorsese is admittedly a person of many phobias and peeves, and one thing he really can’t stand is the sight of a flashbulb going off. So when you see bunches of them going off in his films—see particularly Raging Bull and The Aviator—you know that the director is, at that moment, in peak identification with whatever harassed character is on the other side of those flashes.
Veteran (that is, old-ish) critic Glenn Kenny has written for oodles of publications and these days reviews new releases at RogerEbert.com. He blogs at Some Came Running and tweets (mostly in jest) at @glenn__kenny.
