The Wolf of Wall Street truly surprised me. Martin Scorsese is unquestionably one of America’s finest directors, a man who has written himself into the history books of American cinema with films like Taxi Driver and Goodfellas. His combination of sheer technical virtuosity and depth in has made him one of the few directors in world that be relied upon to consistently produce classics. I looked forward to Wolf of Wall Street like one would Christmas or a Birthday present, though initially I was taken in by its flashy style and edgy content, at the end of its massive three hour run time I was left feeling strangely empty.
The Wolf of Wall Street gives us more cocaine snorting, swearing, violence, nudity, dwarf throwing than we could have ever thought possible. Yet it is never particularly interesting. One America’s greatest directors has managed to make a high budget, star studded epic, with barely a hint of dramatic complexity.
Leonardo DeCaprio plays Jordon Belfort, a struggling Manhattan stockbroker turned millionaire white collar criminal. He is not from the school of the lovable bad guy, who the audience roots for and identifies with. Infact, Jordan Belfort is a man you want to punch in face, repeatedly and hard. Do we get to see gifted actor Decaprio go an emotional journey, as he slowly becomes more corrupt? Do we get a mature Oscar worthy performance taking us deep into his mind and motivations? No, no we don’t: he thoroughly repugnant from beginning to end. In fact the early portions of his life are largely ignored to make way for more coke snorting, dwarf tossing and nudity. In fact pretty much anything resembling character development is side lined for more coke snorting, nudity and general debauchery. It even has the dubious accolade of having a record number of fucks per minute. A joke may be funny, but it’s ceases to be if you say it a thousand times.
Scorsese draws heavily from his often copied back catalogue, and at times it seems it seems like a rerun of Goodfella’s more clichéd moments. Though stylistically it works, it is never quite as invigorating as the original and for a film as long as this inspiration is a must. He seems to have joined the ranks of his many imitators. In Goodfellas though the characters were despicable, they were at least interesting. The Wolf of Wall Street has no such characters. Shows like Breaking Bad and The Sopranos were able to make to you root for the bad guy, despite knowing better. I doubt however anyone will have much sympathy for Jordan Belfort.
The downfall plays like a thousand movies before it. Never do we believe his sins will go unpunished, and all suspense is lost, and when things start to go bad it is predictable and expected. His fall is never harrowing because you’ve been waiting for it for over two hours.
“Wold of Wall Street” could have been brilliant. Matthew Mcconaughey’s performance as his half crazed, drug fuelled but strangely whimsical mentor is explosive and despite his relatively short screen time he is difficult to forget. His supermodel wife, Margot Robbie, though obviously cast on the basis of looks, holds her own around proven actors very well. His boneheaded, incestuous sidekick, courtesy of Jonah Hill, plays the anti-Semitic stereotype excellently. But we never really gain glimpse into the mind of Belfort, like a joke without a punch-line you keep expecting some meaning to arise from the endless debauchery, but it never comes.
I’d be the first person to praise Scorsese. I wanted to like “The Wolf of Wall Street”. I really did. But I can’t escape the feeling of being strangely cheated. It’s not a poorly made film, au contraire, it a masterful piece of production – but it’s boring. It never confuses or challenges the audience, but merely shocks and distracts them. It isn’t a tragedy: it’s a pantomime.