Film Review: The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

How bad is The Wolf of Wall Street? The only thing separating it from being another installment in the Jackass film franchise is the omission of Johnny Knoxville from the cast. Wolf and Jackass are both about men behaving badly, lewdly and stupidly, but at least Jackass isn't pretending that it's making a statement about its times.

Wolf could also be described as the final act in Martin Scorsese's trilogy about the ugly, dangerous face of street-level American capitalism. Goodfellas was the first in the trio and is probably Scorsese's masterwork. Casino was next and felt like a windier, less-focused version of Goodfellas. Wolf represents a collapse in Scorsese's artistic vision. All the elements that worked so well in the previous films--narration by the lead character, great period detail, clever integration of pop songs in the soundtrack--have been trotted out once again, but this time it all feels like it's being done by a hack director.

Both Goodfellas and Casino struck a balance between showing us the inner workings of their secretive, dangerous worlds and the lives of excess lived by the major players in those worlds. Wolf can't be bothered to adequately describe the whys and wherefores of Wall Street in the 1980s. Jordan Belfort, the title character, is quickly introduced, a vague description is given of how his penny stock scam works, and from there we're beaten over the head with scenes and sub-plots that hammer home the point that the Excessive Eighties were fueled by coke, sex and bravura displays of testosterone. In the third act the FBI catches up with Belfort, but this section of the film is even more opaque than the beginning. Why the FBI is on to him isn't really explained, nor are the exact nature of his crimes properly explained. Perhaps this is because financial crimes are basically dry and dull, but what it is clear is that Scorsese only made this film to spend more than two hours showing just how depraved men with too much money can become.

At different points in Wolf it feels like the film has been made by either a horny fifteen-year-old boy or a dirty old man. Scorsese has so much goodwill banked with critics by this point that I don't think many of them have dared to point out that this is a wildly sexist and exploitative film, almost like something Roger Corman would have produced back in the '70s when he hired Scorsese to direct Boxcar Bertha, a bloody, sexy ripoff of the Bonnie and Clyde story. Scorsese is fixated on the fact that Belfort and his minions were sex-obsessed. It's certainly worth pointing out the psychological connection between sex and money, but Scorsese makes the point over and over and over and over, until finally the audience gets the icky feeling that the film is saying more about the director than it is about Jordan Belfort; I mean, how is it that a film about Wall Street has far more sex and nudity in it than Boogie Nights, a film about the hardcore porn industry? The nadir of all this excess is a scene in which Jordan's trophy wife taunts him by displaying her genitals while telling him that he's not going to be getting any because she's mad at him. Unbeknownst to her, a security camera is trained on the room they're in, and some guards are getting a free show, a fact which Jordan gleefully points out. It's a pointless scene that only seems to have been included to provide a raunchy thrill for the male portion of the audience, and there are probably four or five similar scenes that are equally gratuitous.

The worst thing about Wolf is that Scorsese has nothing to say about his subject. He takes an uncritical, even affectionate look at the character of Belfort, and his view of Wall Street in the Eighties amounts to nothing more than delighted astonishment at all the naughtiness that went on. If they were victims of this era, financial or otherwise, Scorsese has nothing to say about them. Based on this film, I'm afraid it might be time for Martin to retire his director's chair and stick to doing DVD commentaries on other people's films; Porky's and Confessions of a Plumber's Mate are just a couple of titles he might be interested in analyzing.

Film Review: The Anderson Tapes (1971)

There are three directors who will be forever identified with New York City. The first two are Martin Scorsese and Woody Allen. The third, and the one with the least name recognition, is Sidney Lumet. Lumet made at least nine films set in NYC, Serpico and Dog Day Afternoon being the most famous, but, unlike Allen and Scorsese, his directorial style is decidedly unidiosyncratic. Lumet, who had a long career in TV before moving to films, had an intense focus on storytelling and he didn't let stylistic flourishes to get in the way of the plot. Lumet's New York films celebrate the city through the faces and voices he cast in his films. The accents and slang of New York fill Lumet's films in a way no other director has matched, and they help give his NYC films an edginess and freneticism that says Gotham like nothing else. He also had an exceptional talent for casting exactly the right actor for each role, right down to the most minor parts. Lumet's fine appreciation for actors also showed in his knack for finding new talent: Christopher Walken, John Cazale, Candice Bergen and Walter Matthau all got their first major roles in Lumet's films.

The Anderson Tapes came just before Serpico and Dog Day Afternoon, and it showcases a lot of Lumet's strengths. The story is about the robbery of a luxurious apartment building bordering Central Park. The leader of the gang, nicknamed Duke, is played by Sean Connery, who, fortunately, does not attempt a New York accent. He is clearly identified early on as being a "limey." Martin Balsam and Christopher Walken (in his first film role) take the other major parts. The robbery does not, of course, go according to plan; for one thing, a baker's dozen of government agencies are surreptitiously bugging most everyone Duke comes in contact with prior to the robbery . In an interesting twist, the robbery section of the film is intercut with flashforwards to the robbery's aftermath. This was pretty cool stuff for 1971, and it adds another layer of tension to the entire sequence.

Lumet's skill at casting is very evident. Every secondary and minor role (there are lots of them) is filled by skilled, experienced character actors, some by name performers like Ralph Meeker and Margaret Hamilton, and others by people who simply have great faces or voices. One example of this is the role of the getaway driver, played by Dick Anthony Williams. His voice and presence grab your attention in every one of the few scenes he's in. A few years later he scored back to back Tony nominations for Best Actor. Lumet really knew how to pick 'em.

The film is shot with Lumet's characteristically unobtrusive, semi-documentary style, and the heist is a superb synthesis of camerawork and editing. The New York locations aren't any of the usual ones, but they look great. A special mention has to go to Quincy Jones' score. It's an amazing mix of jazz/funk that sometimes transitions perfectly into some electronic sound effects that represent a key aspect of the plot. The one aspect of the film that really hits a sour note is Dyan Cannon. Never much of an actress, she provides the eye candy and romance for Connery, but their scenes together are awkward and poorly-written.

Martin Balsam's character is both problematical and significant. He plays a flamboyantly gay interior decorator and his gayness is made fun of at most every opportunity. This was amusing stuff in 1971, but today it looks pretty juvenile. On the other hand, it's important to note that neither Connery's character or the other members of the gang make fun of the Balsam character or even mention his sexuality. To them, he's simply another member of the team. This inclusiveness is striking for the time, and Lumet's sensitivity to gay characters would become even more evident in Dog Day Afternoon.

This isn't one of Lumet's very best films, but it's definitely a fun and energetic example of his directorial skills.