Tuesday, January 21, 2014

The Wolf of Wall Street

There’s a reason Martin Scorsese made The Wolf of Wall Street so similar to his Goodfellas. Both are based on convicted criminals' memoirs. In both a young man is seduced by the allure of ill-gotten wealth and the power, sex and glamour it provides. In both the man tells his story in candid voice-over. Both build to a manic drug-propelled climax. Both heroes turn rat to save themselves and enjoy a second life, though Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio) fares better than Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) did. Their first wives look alike. As the heroes are propelled by cocaine the narrative is driven by a pulsing rock score, though here Scorsese leans more on lesser known tunes and covers. Both films expose the amoral conventions and dishonesty of a tight subculture. And that’s the point. Scorsese implies the American stock brokerage and banking world are now what the Mafia was in the 1990s. It’s hard to disagree.
The fast life is obviously appealing — but it’s not always enough: “I f—— her brains out — for eleven seconds.” When Belfort avows “There’s no nobility in poverty” he doesn’t acknowledge the sordidness of the alternative he chose. That’s like Donnie’s (Jonah Hill) false sense of honour when he explains “If anyone’s gonna f—- my cousin it’s gonna be me. Out of respect, you know?” “Stratton Oakmont is America,” Belfort trumpets, which flatters neither. The opening commercial for his crooked penny stock brokerage revives the lion from the old Dreyfus commercial, but in this jungle leonine Leo is a base wolf not a regal lion. Here as in The Graduate the song "Mrs Robinson" is an anthem of national disillusionment.
     The dealers show a remarkable lack of humanity. The constant profanity, the macho chest-thumping, the dwarf-throwing competition, all cohere with the brokers' lack of any concern or sympathy for their poor clients. They howl and prey on their helpless victims like a wolf-pack. Dealing in penny stocks they are conning people with very little money, who can't afford to lose. In fact, their dawrf-throwing contest is a perfect metaphor for their blithe abuse of "the little people" who entrust them with their investments. Oddly, audiences seem less perturbed by the dwarf-throwing than by the volume of profanity. I suspect the same people who laughed at the king in Amadeus for saying Mozart wrote "too many notes" claim Scorsese used too much swearing. They don't pause to consider why.
The film manages to pull a lot of comedy out of its bitter view of American commerce. The more addled Belfort and partner Donnie get, from booze, coke and power, the funnier their stupidity gets. That such fumble bunnies can fare so well only emphasizes the weakness of the government’s protection of its innocent, exploited investors. The honcho who at 26 made almost a million a week gets off with a 22-month sentence and a fine.  Wall Street has bought off the government the way the Goodfellas bought the police.
It’s great to see Scorsese at 71 back at the top of his form. 
     By the way, can you believe his Raging Bull lost the Best Film Oscar and Best Director to Robert Redford’s Ordinary People and Goodfellas to Kevin Costner and Dances with Wolves?  Which films are still watched and pondered? So much for the Academy.

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