I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it before, but when you’re writing this column, it’s somehow tougher to write about the movies that are truly great. If you’re covering an obscure piece of film, like a rare Spaghetti Western or a small Samurai film, people usually have to take you at your word, but if you’re covering something like Star Wars or The Godfather, you’re under a little more scrutiny. Those are works that have become part of the culture, and the prospect of not doing service to them in this column is a little nerve-racking.
This is perhaps why I’ve stayed away from Martin Scorsese’s films for so long. On one hand, it’s wonderful to look at films that are so rich and full of energy and artistic merit, but on the other hand these movies have already been covered so many times that I feel as if I don’t have much to add. Then again, I’ve become so entrenched in the “Martin Scorsese needs to win an Oscar” camp lately that it’s hard to think of anyone or anything else to write about. I know I’m far from alone in this camp.
Now by the time this is published, Martin Scorsese will have hopefully already won his award for Best Director (HE DID!), and hopefully The Departed walked away with Best Picture (IT DID!). I just can’t understand the impulses of the Academy sometimes, seemingly always going with films that will end up forgotten, when true art is left waiting for time to be its true test. Scorsese has made films that will go on forever, and it’s difficult to see what has taken Oscar so long to catch up.
I mean, I can see perhaps choosing Eastwood for Million Dollar Baby over The Aviator or perhaps The Last Temptation of Christ being too controversial a picture to win. Gangs of New York losing out to Chicago I chalk up to general stupidity, but then there are the losses that seem to hurt the most. While Ordinary People is a fine film, the notion of picking Robert Redford, who was directing his first movie, over seasoned veteran Scorsese seems ludicrous looking at it now. This is especially heinous considering that it’s difficult to even imagine a more personal and accurate vision from a director than Raging Bull.
Then there’s my least favorite loss of all. Now make no mistake, Dances with Wolves is a handsome picture and a wonderful film in many respects. To watch the film back to back with Goodfellas though, shows the folly of the Academy Awards sometimes. Now, coming up on two decades later, Goodfellas stands as a monumental achievement for the film’s director, genre, and film in general.
Goodfellas Starring Ray Liotta, Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Lorraine Bracco. Directed by Martin Scorsese.
It seems inevitable that if you ever start watching Martin Scorsese films, you eventually have to come to Goodfellas. The movie stands as his most accessible, with an energy that is infectious as the saga of real life gangster Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) unfolds in front of you. It’s a movie that never plays around with you. It shows you exactly why someone would choose that life, and also how it will always end in ruin. The film begins with a moment of stark and unrelenting violence, and yet never feels gratuitous. This brutality is simply an element of that lifestyle that will always be associated with it because that’s the way it really is. It is the threat of that same violence that closes the picture and shows you the road Henry Hill will be on if he does not change his ways.
Much like the low level criminals of Scorsese’s nearly autobiographical Mean Streets, Henry Hill’s life is a window into this gangster culture. In the beginning Henry (played in his younger scenes by Christopher Serrone) sees the mafia through a child’s eyes, full of naivety, uncaring that they may be breaking the law. They seem more like superheroes to him than just the thugs who ruled that particular neighborhood. In many ways, Scorsese’s own upbringing must have mirrored this very childhood, standing outside this culture wanting to look in.
The way Scorsese tells this story, the window seems to become clearer and clearer as the movie goes on. As Liotta eventually takes over the role, the older man still sees the mafia with the same kid glasses. When we meet Henry, there is a moment when he shrinks into a corner beaten down by his father, who disapproves of him hanging out with hooligans. It is not till he is with his brethren in the mob that he feels like he is able to stand tall. Unlike the Harvey Keitel character from Mean Streets, Hill’s a man living his own version of the American dream, not really having to work, stealing what he wants and shaking down whomever he likes. He’s a man that has a small mean streak himself, but prefers to surround himself with dangerous men in order to feel more important.
These men would include Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro), an Irish gangster that seems to not only have a talent for stealing and smuggling, but is even better at being able to delegate how much of his earnings will go to others so that he will be able keep his operations going. This becomes huge later on in the movie, but it’s a subtle trait that you may not think about if you’re not paying attention. Thing is, whether its to his higher ups or even to the cops, Jimmy hates giving up his own money, but he hates being caught more.
This is a terrifically understated performance by De Niro, especially compared to the over the top antics of his last collaboration with Scorsese before this, 1983’s The King of Comedy. Jimmy “The Gent” is a terrific character cooked up by Scorsese and his greatest acting collaborator, completely reserved, hardly showing any emotion other that his boisterous side. The scary part is that Conway has his monster deep within his persona, letting it out with chilling menace only a few times in the movie, usually off-screen.
Much less guarded is Joe Pesci’s Tommy DeVito, Henry’s best friend, but not necessarily a confidant. A combination of James Cagney’s craziest gangster roles and Lou Costello’s wacky sidekicks, Tommy makes you laugh as much as he scares the living hell out of you. Living his life with reckless abandon, Tommy overstretches his clout, bringing about his downfall in the story, but at the same time he also reaches immortality by having the most memorable scenes in the movie by far.
Apparently the person that Pesci’s character was based on was a man of much bigger stature, but the staggering thing is how frightening and yet personable Pesci can be in scene after scene. The “You’re a funny guy scene” is amazing, but the most important portion of that scene may be when he physically attacks Sonny Bunz (Tony Darrow), the owner of the club they’re in, giving those around him an inkling of his physical prowess. To Tommy, violence and cracking jokes is nearly the same thing, as in the scene where he kills Billy Batts (Frank Vincent) and instead of freaking out, he calmly tells Henry that he didn’t want to get blood on his floor. His whole life is one joke after another and in the end it costs him.
We see further into this window when Hill finds Karen (Lorraine Bracco) and shows her the glamorous side of his life. This of course, doesn’t happen until she’s shown her angry side to Henry, who thought she was boring before. An amazing unending shot by Scorsese, as Henry shows Karen in by the back door into a glitzy club, is a showstopper. Also incredible is that Karen is the only other character besides Henry, to earn the right to be able to narrate some of this tale, looking at this life with the same naivéte that Henry does until eventually the bottom falls out.
Another great collaborator on this movie is once again Scorsese’s own record collection. Here the music is a chronological device, telling us what era we’re in from the 50’s to the 80’s. I love that, of course, the Stones’ Gimme Shelter makes an appearance. This is actually a pretty subtle technique by the director, not pounding down images to go along with the music like Forest Gump does. Instead, we’re just taken on as much of a musical journey as we are a physical one with Henry Hill.
Goodfellas’ script, based on the book Wiseguy by Nicholas Pileggi, and co-written by Scorsese and Pileggi, is a screenplay that is filled with tons of dark humor that sucks you into this world, that seems to zip along, hardly ever stopping to breath. So much of this movie is just listening to Hill’s narration, which sounds completely authentic, taking you deeper and deeper down with him into hell. Everyone in the cast benefits from this script though, by being given one awesome line after another, especially Pesci and Liotta, neither of which will ever be as good ever again.
Watching this movie makes you wonder if the Academy ever even saw Goodfellas before voting for the Best Director Oscar that year. One sequence after another is simply stunning, such as the shot of the gangsters lined up at the bar, similar to a shot in Mean Streets, but played up with more ridiculous characters such as Jimmy Two Times (Anthony Powers) and Nicky Eyes (John Manca), as if we were looking at the Legion of Doom from Superfriends. This is a man in complete control of his craft, taking us through Hill’s life at a breakneck pace and whipping us into a frenzy along the way in a very similar fashion to the way Karen is initiated into the lifestyle.
Even as the view through the window turns ugly, we’re still with it all the way. Henry Hill’s fall from grace is just as interesting as his rise, with the last portion of this film flat out being the best depiction of drug addiction ever put on film. We can feel Henry losing his grip on reality, still trying to hold onto his child’s view of things, thinking it will all work out. When the window finally shatters, and Hill has only his wife and gun left to him, he crouches in a corner once more, his American dream over for good.
It’s hard to even fathom how a movie this good could not win accolade after accolade, though Pesci walked away with the Best Supporting Actor Oscar that year. Time has already told on this one though, as Goodfellas has become an American pillar of cinema, looking at the mafia in a way that no film had ever done before. Unlike The Godfather, Goodfellas doesn’t take place in some mythical Mafia hierarchy, it takes place on the streets, where the foot soldiers have to pretend to be rock stars so they don’t see that they’re losing their souls. Hopefully, The Departed will finally wash away the mistake of this film not being honored and we’ll finally be able to start talking about when Scorsese is finally going to win his second award.
Picture Credits: razyboard.com, fantascienza.com, impawards.com
