For months I had to hear about how GREAT The Irishman was. I was treated like a fool for believing that this movie was a meandering 24-hour long mafia obsessed meaningless edging exercise with hilariously odd CGI and elderly men running around like 30-year olds.
I was dragged for calling this movie bad, even though it’s bad and now after being nominated in ten categories and winning a grand total of zero Oscars, can we revisit what this movie actually is?
Robert De Niro is a 76-year old OLD man who plays Frank “The Painter” Sheeran, a character who I think was supposed to be in his late 20’s but thanks to the wonders of de-aging technology, ends up looking like a spry young 58-year old.
Once you get past the terrible cartoony CGI, you are forced to sit through a story in which halfway through you’re not watching a real narrative that has any purpose. You also realize that you’re not actually halfway through it when you check how much time is left and there are still two hours remaining.
I was under the impression that this movie was supposed to be about the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa but Al Pacino—who plays Hoffa—seems to be in the movie less than Ray Romano. The movie was paced like a 13-episode AMC miniseries.
What makes this slow pointless slog of a movie the most unbearable is that it’s a story we already know the ending to. Frank kills Hoffa. When the movie starts, Frank and Russell Bufalino (played by Joe Pesci) are on their way to kill him. Frank is introduced as a murderer.
Even as we meet characters throughout the movie, they are introduced with little subtitles that display when and how they died like the beginning of a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. There are no stakes to this movie when we have our hands held through the final outcome the entire time.
For every super fun drunk guy at the bar who can’t stop talking about how great Goodfellas is at 1am, they at least can list of iconic scenes and quotes. Yes, we already know what happens with Henry Hill but that ‘get your shine box’ scene is how you get us from Point A to Point B.
The Irishman doesn’t have a single damn scene worth re-watching. There are no quotes worth repeating. You might as well watch a Jimmy Hoffa documentary or just read the book this movie is based on.
The acting is cringeworthy because it’s literally geriatrics pretending to be much younger men. It’s a story that’s somehow managed to be told with both excruciating detail and vague simplicities at the same time.
The Irishman was a love letter to a time when Mafia movies were must-watch but instead of a love letter, it ended up being a hostage note with letters cut and paste from People magazines. It was Martin Scorsese’s attempt to ‘get the band back together’ for his own version of The Last Waltz or concert at Royal Albert Hall and it was more like when The Who got back together a few years ago and Roger Daltrey tried to still perform shirtless and smash guitars and it looked like he needed an oxygen tank and some Prilosec OTC.
Fuck The Irishman.
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