No matter what, a Martin Scorsese movie is never a failure. No matter the length, or the subject matter, no matter how much profanity or vulgarity or questionable content—if Martin Scorsese is at the helm, you have a seasoned veteran who is going to create the best possible product. And that is certainly the case with Wolf of Wall Street.
The story is difficult to summarize in a simple, singular review. In a nutshell, the film follows the exploits and career of Jordan Belfort, a young man who starts on the lowest rung on Wall Street and gradually works his way up to being a millionaire. He does so through questionable means, including selling “penny stocks” (shares that are so small and cheap with pathetic companies that people buy bulk amounts of them). There is a lot more to the story—familial troubles, business troubles, the FBI snooping in—but it’s difficult to tie it all together in simple words. It’s something that needs to be seen and heard.
That was one element I was struck by with this movie. It is both extraordinarily visual and extraordinarily audible. I’m a huge supporter of the Quentin Tarantino method of filmmaking: that dialogue and audio should be just as important as the visuals. The conversations between the characters in the film feel real and genuine, off-the-cuff but at the same time intelligent and the product of a script. The dialogue overlaps in the same vein as Citizen Kane.
But the visual element is one of Scorsese’s trademarks. You get the tracking shot he is famous for, the camera swooping around the office interiors. The film cuts quickly at times, creating a montage of elegance and excess; then, during conversations, the shots linger on faces and show genuine character and emotion when needed. This is a testament to both Scorsese and his crew. Thelma Schoonmaker, his usual editor, does a usual exemplary job. And Rodrgo Prieto replaces Robert Richardson as Scorsese’s director of photography, and while he brings his own style to the proceedings, it’s still a Scorsese picture.
As can be expected, the acting is impeccable. Leonardo DiCaprio turns in an even more insane, depraved and emotional performance than he did in Django Unchained. While there he was nothing but a raging psychopath, here is a sociopathic sex- and drug- and alcohol-addict, with feelings. While we absolutely hate his guts, we don’t want him to get in too much trouble; while we see what he’s doing and feel sick, at the same time when the law crawls after him we don’t want it to be. This is the performance that should get Leo his Oscar—and despite the past, based on his recent Golden Globe win, he may finally get it. His supporting cast, including Jonah Hill, Matthew McConaughey (in a deliciously sick cameo), and Margot Robbie, jump off the screen with bravado.
If there is a flaw that I could find, it was that sometimes the film became a little too self-indulgent. While the three hours do race by, their not without their stumbles. While the extended conversation with McConaughey is lovely, there are other long scenes that become a bit too long and dull; they lost me, and members of the audience while leaving did comment that the film, while good, could have done with another trim job.
Otherwise, this is a film that has to be seen. It’s incredibly well made and a fine example of master filmmaking. The comedy is dark and delectable, the kind that makes you think and laugh but not too loud and not too long; the dark parts make you cringe and frown; the characters are pitiable while not losing their mean streak, and by the end you understand what you’ve seen while, at the same time, are unable to put it into clear words.
NOTE: This is not a film for the faint of heart. There are countless scenes of sexual activities, most very graphically put on. There is a scene of masturbation, with nothing left to the imagination. And while there is not violence, along with the sex, nearly every other word out of every character’s mouth is a profanity.
