Martin Scorsese takes a different approach to familiar territory with this epic tale of Mob hitman Frank Sheeran, who got close to famed union boss Jimmy Hoffa.

Director: Martin Scorsese

Screenwriter: Steven Zaillian

Script source: Script Slug

Based on: The non-fiction book, I Heard You Paint Houses, by Charles Brandt.

Synopsis:

(Spoilers) Nursing home resident Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) recounts the story of how he became involved with the Mafia in Philadelphia, starting with a chance encounter with Mob boss Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci), with whom he forms a close friendship. Frank’s willingness to be a fixer, including carrying out Mob hits (a.k.a. painting houses), soon makes him the go-to guy for Bufalino, who later introduces him to Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), the powerful and popular head of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters. Hoffa also takes a shine to Frank and they too forge a bond. Frank’s loyalties are tested when Bufalino sends him to do a hit on Hoffa, who has become a liability.

(Note: some of the embedded videos contain profanity)

Analysis:

(Spoilers) While it may seem as though The Irishman is re-treading the same ground covered by Scorsese in Goodfellas (1990) and Casino (1995), it is, in fact, a very different type of film. Lower key and reflective in nature, this is a much more workaday piece that deals with the realities of life as a ‘house painter’ for the Mafia. This is not the glamorous world of Vegas or the goodfellas; it’s a world in which Frank’s willingness to do Bufalino and Hoffa’s bidding bought him a simple family life in Philadelphia.

The main thread of the story concerns Hoffa, whose disappearance in July 1975 has long been a mystery. In The Irishman, this mystery is cleared up, courtesy of a house painting visit by Frank. The truth of this has been disputed, but as a narrative, it works well. Frank has a bond with, and strong loyalty to, both Bufalino and Hoffa, and must choose when the former orders him to do the hit. The scenes leading up to this and the aftermath are some of the strongest in the film.

Throughout, screenwriter Zaillian intricately builds the story, weaving in Frank’s home life and jumping effectively between the decades. He has structured the story in such a way that the hit on Hoffa is built up from the beginning, as we join Frank and Bufalino (plus their chain-smoking wives) on a road trip to Detroit, ostensibly for a wedding.

Given the importance of Hoffa to the story, it’s no co-incidence that it is with his appearance that the film really comes alive. Pacino, often criticised for his ‘shouty Al’ performances, gets the balance right here, portraying Hoffa’s exuberance, loyalty and big mouth. One of the best scenes in the film comes when Hoffa sits down to a meeting to smooth things over with brash mobbed-up Teamster Anthony (‘Tony Pro’) Provenzano (Stephen Graham) and proceeds to lay into him for his timekeeping and choice of attire. The ire between the men is palpable, as Frank tries to keep the peace.

As Frank, De Niro is constrained and, again, low key. His narration guides us through the film, giving us an insight into Frank’s life. It is quite a stretch to believe that he was so fully brought into the inner circles of both Bufalino and Hoffa. However, Frank continuously proves his mettle, which propels him further into the life of a Mob hitman. Whereas the violence in some of Scorsese’s other gangster films is staged, visceral and flashy, here we have a more basic approach. Just shoot ‘em, drive away and throw the gun in the river.

Anyone expecting the presence of Pesci in a Scorsese-directed Mob movie to equal another outing for his ‘pint-sized psycho’ routine will be sorely disappointed. As Bufalino, he is a calm but powerful presence, as he controls his turf and develops an attachment to Frank and his family.

Elsewhere, other than a neat turn from Ray Romano as a Teamster lawyer and Bufalino’s cousin, and Graham’s charismatic Tony Pro, it has to be said that many of the other performances are all too brief. This is a real shame given that the cast includes the likes of Harvey Keitel as a Mafia bigwig, and Jesse Plemmons, who plays a pivotal role as Hoffa’s son. Also wasted are Bobby Cannavale as a mobster and Anna Paquin as Frank’s estranged daughter. (There is an unexpected treat for fans of the E Street Band, however). So, while the film runs for well over three hours, it appears quite a lot of good stuff was left on the cutting room floor.

As it turns out, the film’s running time is actually a bit of a double-edged sword. On one hand, this is an epic film that requires a wide backdrop, as we see Frank move through the decades, climbing the ladder via his friendships with Hoffa and Bufalino. On the other, there is an argument that some of the action could have been condensed to pull a tighter focus on the period in which Frank was caught between his two powerful friends.

There is also quite a lengthy end section, in which we see the elderly Frank and Russell running down the clock as the last men standing. With Scorsese and the three lead actors all in their seventies, it’s maybe not surprising that the film strikes a slower, more wistful chord. However, given the high body count that is simply shrugged off, it’s a little unbalanced to linger so long on Frank’s fate. But it does highlight the different tone from what we’re used to when Scorsese meets the Mob. In Goodfellas, we left Henry Hill stuck in suburban witness protection hell, with his ‘egg noodles and ketchup’; a fate worse than death. In The Irishman, we stick with Frank Sheeran to the bitter end, alone and estranged from his kids, but ambivalent to his life of house painting.

Aside from the Netflix production deal – which means the film is streaming online alongside a limited cinema release – one of the more notable aspects of The Irishman is that it employs well-publicised ‘de-aging’ technology. This allows Scorsese to tell his decades-spanning tale using the principal cast instead of younger lookalike actors.

So, does it work? The answer has to be, ‘yes’ (at least on the small screen). While there may be an initial novelty factor, the technology quickly fades into the background as the story unfolds. There are a couple of places in which it looks a little fake, and others where it looks seamless. As to the former, scenes of young Frank in WWII have been trimmed down to a single scene that shows us his unemotional attitude towards dispatching people, so the technology really just offers a fleeting glimpse of a de-aged De Niro in his twenties. The main effect of the technology is to give the audience the pleasure of seeing De Niro, Pacino and Pesci, et al, interacting on screen throughout the 209-minute running time.

Overall, this is a film that is really about the passing of time, both on and off-screen. A labour of love for De Niro and Scorsese, it highlights how the world of filmmaking has changed since the days of Mean Streets (1973) and Goodfellas. But while the technological developments and the rise of Netflix (and its competitors) as a home for large-scale A-list film productions may be recent, the traditions of storytelling remain. As we noted in our last article, Scorsese now has a wider range of tools with which to tell his stories and to share them with audiences. In the case of The Irishman, he has brought to life another gangster picture; only this time everyone’s a little older, a little wiser, and maybe a little more aware that the clock is ticking.

Go further:

Take a look at a couple of official trailers:

Watch Scorsese and the cast discussing the film: