Martin Scorsese’s mob epic unites three lead actors steeped in menace to spin a potent tale of male toxicity, and bid farewell to an era. It’s the work of a master
The richness, artistry and grandeur of Martin Scorsese’s film-making was revealed again in his epic mob corruption tale The Irishman, which returns him spectacularly to the wellspring of his greatest inspiration: the lives of working-class Italian Americans, and those from other US
immigrant communities in the 20th century. They are mixed up with organised crime, deeply influenced by the protective codes and practices of the family, the church and respectable commerce, but their conformity exists alongside a half-acknowledged life of sin and crime. The family man cheats on his wife, the churchgoer murders and robs, the hardworking small businessman evades tax, uses his business as a laundering front for the wiseguys and pays (or demands) protection – and the loyal Cosa Nostra soldier secretly wears a wire preparing to turn state’s evidence.
The Irishman is based on the true-crime bestseller I Heard You Paint Houses, about Philadelphia mob enforcer Frank Sheeran – whose nickname “The Irishman” was an important way of announcing his semi-detachment from the Italian gangsters – and Sheeran’s claim to have been the man who murdered Teamsters union boss Jimmy Hoffa at the behest of mafiosi nervous about what Hoffa might reveal about his mob links. Scorsese assembles a superstar repertory of players: Robert De Niro is the stolid, discreet Sheeran, Joe Pesci displays his charismatic menace in the role of soft-spoken mafia boss Russell Bufalino and Al Pacino brings his A-game to the part of Hoffa.