The Irishman (2019)
7/10
"Three And A Half Hours Of My Life I'll Never Get Back!"
5 January 2020
I can probably sum this film up in about three words: overlong, grim and boring.

My family will tell you I'm a big Scorsese fan (Goodfellas is one of my absolute favourites!) but I was really disappointed by his latest directive outing. The genius behind Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and The King Of Comedy (to name a few) has presented us with a monotonous slug of a film: The Irishman.

I got a big kick out of seeing my acting heroes (DeNiro, Pesci, Pacino, Keitel...) doing what they're best at doing and the attention to set detail was spot on (as always with Scorsese) but apart from that, I found little to like about The Irishman.

The CGI was passable; I didn't think it was great but I didn't think it was terrible. The main problem (for me) was that DeNiro is trying to sound like 30-year old with the voice of a nearly 80-year old.

As someone who's read Charles Brandt's I Heard You Paint Houses (the book that the film is based on), I was really struck by how much story Scorsese and Zaillian left out of the script and film. Almost all of Frank Sheeran's young life is glossed-over and people who don't know who Jimmy Hoffa was will be left almost none the wiser. If you really want to know who Jimmy Hoffa was and want to see a film about him that is both gripping and moving, I'd recommend Dany DeVito's Hoffa (1992). The film is not only shorter (by a whole hour and a half) but holds a cast that actually resembles the real people they're based on. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with The Irishman's cast but Al Pacino resembles none of Hoffa's characteristics or mannerisms. Jack Nicholson on the other hand is a virtual carbon copy of Hoffa's restless, volatile nature and squat, bulldog features.

If this film were a piece of music, it would be a funeral dirge. The usual excitement of a Scorsese narrative is replaced with a prosaic confession spread-out over three and a half hours. It's not soulful or meaningful but dry and barren of any emotion. Maybe that's what Scorsese intended but when I sit down for a three hour film, I intend to be moved and gripped. The Irishman did neither. My advice? Watch Hoffa instead!

But what do I know? "I'm an average nobody, get to live the rest of my life like a schnook".
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