Double Review Spectacular - The Irishman and Marriage Story

Another sterling week in the books for cinema, this time coming from Netflix, a company many blame for the death of cinema. See, up yours establishment! With all the flipping off done to the establishment, I guess we should apologise slightly uncomfortably by moving onto The Irishman, the new film from industry establishment Martin Scorsese, after which we'll get to Noah Baumbach's sob fest Marriage Story.

In the vein of many of the Scorsese films we love so dearly, The Irishman is a crime drama about the mob. Actually, scratch the word "drama", this is a flat out epic, not just for the already infamous three and a half hour runtime this bad boy carries. No, it's also an epic in the sense that this tells the story of a lifetime, specifically the lifetime of Frank Sheeran (no relation to Ed) as he worked his way through the Italian mob. He starts out doing bits of driving, then "painting houses", before the big guys start to really notice him, eventually leading to Frank working alongside Jimmy Hoffa. I confess, before the press circuit for this film started up, I had no idea who Jimmy Hoffa was, but the positive of that is I can tell you that a lack of knowledge on Hoffa is no barrier at all, perhaps even a benefit. In fact, the film mentions it and incorporates it into the thematic atmosphere; at one point, he was bigger than The Beatles, everyone knew his name. Now he's gone, physically and in memory. Eventually there will be no one left who knew him, something that only becomes more and more noticeable as the film moves on, moving towards the end that seemed so far away not that long ago. That is exactly the strength of this film. The runtime is an absolute beast but it is a treat to sit through. No scene is wasted, no pause too long, no line of dialogue replaceable. It is the story of a life and it would feel a waste to try and tell this story in two hours, so I'm glad they didn't try.

[Pesci gives] the kind of performance people who write about film hate, because I can't put into words how wonderful it is.

One of the biggest Irishman talking points aside from the runtime has been the performances, since this is the first time that Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Al Pacino have all worked together, doing so under Scorsese. The three were some of the biggest and best actors of their time, with the only real shame of their careers being that our distance from that time makes it easy to forget their brilliance, not least because of some of the trash they've been in since (Dirty Grandpa or Jack and Jill anyone?). Fortunately, not only is this a historic coming together, it's also the best work I've seen from these three since the turn of the millennium. De Niro is the lead so let's get to him first. As he is whenever he feels like giving a shit, he's great. It's funny comparing decent work from him a few months ago in Joker to this, where he just crushes almost every scene, the one exception being a scene outside a shop where a forty year old De Niro walks like a very clearly 80 year old De Niro. Pacino is great too, something I feel confident saying even though I have no mental image of Hoffa to compare him to. He has the kind of charm Pacino has in interviews, while also hiding away an image of a man much closer to the likes of Michael Corleone. He was very fun to be with. A variety of supporting actors deliver great turns too (Stephen Graham! Ray Romano! Anna Paquin!) but of everyone here, Joe Pesci bowled me over more than anyone else. I've always liked him as an actor, from the moment I saw Home Alone to seeing him obliterate that image cursing up a storm in Goodfellas but I've never loved him in a film this much. Gone is the swear-nado of Tommy DeVito, here is the reserved malice of Russell Bufalino. He's a bad, bad man, yet the frailty Pesci lends to him makes my heart swell strangely. It's the kind of performance people who write about film hate, because I can't put into words how wonderful it is. In a just world, he'd be nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars this year, but it seems unfortunately likelier that Pacino and his showier turn will take it instead.

The Irishman is a Martin Scorsese film and that means a couple of things (not that it will be a mob film, he has done plenty of non-gangster movies, please give the man some credit). Firstly, it means it is superbly edited. As the film begins, we are flying between time frames. At one point, I realised what we were watching was cutting between three separate time periods and frankly, the only reason that works at all is because of legendary editor Thelma Schoonmaker. She and Scorsese have been working together since the seventies and the connection and shared sense of rhythm not only makes complex edits like the one I mentioned possible, but also makes a three and a half hour movie fly by. I genuinely couldn't believe the time had passed when the credits started rolling, it was that compelling. By and large, the film looks great too. Period detail in Scorsese films is always spot on and while maybe the period is not quite as lusciously evoked as Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in... Hollywood was earlier in the year, the costuming, set design and music choices remain brilliant. The one aspect I am a little less sold on is the computer effects. In part I'm referring to a few dodgy moments of green screen but mainly, I mean the digital de-ageing of certain actors. The holy trinity of Irishman talking points is "it's long, wow these actors are great" and this, so let's finally get to it. There are many moments early in the film where it is noticeable (as I mentioned earlier, older actors often walk old, no matter how young the face) but to the credit of the film, I soon forgot about it. Every now and again, an over smoothness of someone's face would pull me out but while not as smooth as was intended, it's a technique that has shocking efficiency.

This is a film full of slow regret, [...] a superb movie experience for those who dig it

You probably already know or not if you're going to watch The Irishman. After all, while it's highly acclaimed, it is over three hours, often slow and nowhere near as flashy as Goodfellas or The Wolf of Wall Street. But neither is it meant to be. This is a film full of slow regret and while I appreciate that isn't the greatest sell, it's a superb movie experience for those who dig it. That's why I give The Irishman a

From a movie full of stale regret to a movie full of fresh agony, let's talk Marriage Story. What a joyous time!

Marriage Story is the story of a marriage. That's what the opening scene sets us up for, anyway. A husband and wife list off the things they love about each other. Sweeping romantic gestures, intimate habits and endearing personality quirks. It's the kind of thing to make your heart soar. Or at least, it would be if the context wasn't that they were seeing a mediator to help ease their divorce along. For this is a story about a love that has recently fallen away. Not died completely, yet has been beaten down enough by time and the world. Nicole and Charlie want to care about each other, but with Charlie having a theatre company in New York and Nicole wanting to sign on for a TV show in Los Angeles, there's no way to make it work anymore. All they can do is do the best for their child who, despite the absence that now exists between them, is the one thing that keeps them both stable. What follows is not necessarily a revolution in story telling, but nor was it trying to do that. Divorce is one of those experiences in life almost everyone has experienced. Maybe you've been divorced, maybe your parents got divorced, maybe you watched a friend experience it. Like death, it touches us all and so to do something revolutionary would be dishonest, something Marriage Story simply cannot do. We'll return to this later but there is not a single insincere bone in the body of this film and it aches for that reason. It aches so damn good.

I don't know if there are two better performances this year.

In casting his film, director Noah Baumbach managed to pull in a supporting cast of brilliant character actors. David Lynch's fave Laura Dern is here, as wonderful as ever, as is Scorsese's old buddy Ray Liotta from Goodfellas. You'll probably recognise a decent selection of faces here and they round out the film with ease but the core is made of only two actors: Adam Driver and Scarlet Johansson. As Charlie and Nicole, the film is all about them. Sure, their script is great but without equally great work from them, this would be unwatchable. As it turns out, I have never seen either actor better. I'll go further than that in fact; I don't know if there are two better performances this year. Johansson has stealthily been doing great work in bonkers films like Under the Skin and her for a few years and Driver has also managed to fill his time between stints as the sexiest(?) baddie in the Star Wars universe with gems like BlacKkKlansman and Inside Llewyn Davis but this... This a whole new stratosphere for the two. Generally when talking performances, especially around awards season, people like performances that they can compare to a thing they know. Sometimes that's just the performances the actor has given before ("Wow, he's been great before but never while eating bison liver"), but it's often of real life or pre-existing figures. Last year it was Rami Malek as a slightly dodgy Freddie Mercury and Mahershala Ali doing his best, this year it's looking like it'll be Joaquin Phoenix's take on The Joker and aforementioned Al Pacino doing the Hoffa. But there is something about losing yourself in a performance, not even realising they are taking you along. It happened with Timothée Chalamet and Call Me By Your Name a few years back, it happened again here. One early scene is just Johansson talking about her marriage to Laura Dern. It's a long scene, not very aesthetically rich, but about halfway through, I realised I was crying. Without realising it, this performance had burrowed its way inside my soul. Sure, this is a film about divorce so there are argument scenes (and good God, prepare for those scenes to rip your soul in half) but even in the subtle moments, these are humans I am with all the way. It makes their victories sweeter and their arguments bleed harder and I would not have it a single other way.

So much to still talk about! Perhaps next we'll go to Randy Newman, composer of this film. Like me, I'm sure you know his work best from the Toy Story films and weirdly enough, that is the vibe he hits here. It's beautiful and playful a lot but when you need that sucker punch, in it comes, swapping pianos for violins before you even realise it. Especially with his relegation to the Pixar pen recently, it feels like he is a slightly forgotten composer but this is the kind of score that makes me reconsider how I think about his entire career. Also acing everything about their work is Robbie Ryan, the cinematographer. Last year/earlier this year, he did The Favourite, a film I am sure you remember for being absolutely nauseating most of the time. This is not that. It will sound like a strange compliment for a cinematographer but his greatest strength here is just pulling back and letting the actors do their thing. From time to time, I was noting ingenious shot composition but otherwise, I was too swept away by it to realise what was happening. On a similar note, I don't usually talk editors because I am ignorant but I would like to specially mention Jennifer Lame and her work. She worked with Baumbach before on the delightful Frances Ha but also worked on Hereditary last year and Manchester By The Sea a few years before that. I mention those three together because strangely enough, that's the tone here. A lot is the bubbly joy of Frances Ha, the rest is the utter existential misery of Hereditary and Manchester, where there are many scenes so powerful you just want them to stop before they cause you any more pain. That sounds hideous, but it's a good thing, I think. Regardless of whether you think that tone works, there is also a cross dissolve in this film that is just about the best editing moment of the year and I'd like to take an all too rare moment to preach the power of editing in maybe the best edited film of the year.

It is films this buoyant, this agonising and this fucking soulful that are the reason I love cinema.

Before we wrap up, I want to take a moment to talk about Noah Baumbach, the writer and director of this gem. Back, way back in the past, when I reviewed Lady Bird (a film I did and still do adore), I made a mistake that I still regret to this day; I said Greta Gerwig wasn't much of a director. In my defence, that was because I was saying she was such a good screenwriter but as I've understood more about film, I realise what an awfully arrogant thing to say that was. This is my way both of apologising to her and saying that Baumbach is a hell of a director, who also happens to outdo himself with his screenwriting. The director is a mysterious figure in film and their purpose varies from film to film but generally, they are the figurehead of the ship and all responsibilities come down to them. In that sense, there may be no better director than Baumbach. He has crafted a space where everyone, be they actor, costume designer or best boy, is able to work to their creative best. He has also created one of the most intimately personal feeling films I'm yet to experience. While watching, I kept seeing shades of my parents in the characters and while I was fortunately too young to experience what their divorce was like, witnessing the pain in the space love used to fill broke me. I lost count of the times that I would be crying in a scene, then see a version of one or both of my parents on screen and start sobbing harder and louder than I knew possible. Perhaps it doesn't help that both my parents and Nicole and Charlie named their son Henry but regardless, this feels like inherently soulful cinema. If you had never even heard of the word divorce, this film would strike your core. Quite simply, it is films this buoyant, this agonising and this fucking soulful that are the reason I love cinema.

On speaking about this film with my dear friend and fellow film nerd Jacob, he mentioned that at the critics screening he saw this film at, the journalist next to him muttered "about twenty minutes too long" at the end, before walking out to their next film. Even in my perpetually cynical state, I cannot even conceive of that reaction. If you are not profoundly and deeply moved by the ebb and flow of the aches and awe of Marriage Story, you may not be suited for film. With a month to go before the end of the year, it stands as my film of 2019 and I am therefore delighted to award it a