1995: Heat (Michael Mann)

Released: December 15, 1995

Director: Michael Mann; Screenplay: Michael Mann; Cinematography: Dante Spinotti; Studio: Warner Bros.; Producers: Michael Mann and Art Linson

Cast: Al Pacino (Lt. Vincent Hanna), Robert De Niro (Neil McCauley), Val Kilmer (Chris Shiherlis), Jon Voight (Nate), Tom Sizemore (Tom Cheritto), Danny Trejo (Trejo), Diane Venora (Justine Hanna), Amy Brenneman (Eady), Ashley Judd (Charlene Shiherlis), Mykelti Williamson (Sgt. Drucker), Wes Studi (Det. Casals), Ted Levine (Det. Bosko), Dennis Hasybert (Donald Breedan), William Fitchtner (Roger Van Zant), Natalie Portman (Lauren Gustafson), Tom Noonan (Kelso), Kevin Gage (Waingro), Hank Azaria (Alan Marciano), Henry Rollins (Hugh Benny), Tone Loc (Richard Torena)

- “You do what you do, and I do what I gotta do. And now that we've been face to face, if I'm there and I gotta put you away, I won't like it. But I tell you, if it's between you and some poor bastard whose wife you're gonna turn into a widow… brother, you are going down.”

When the publicity machine was in full bore for the release of last year’s Righteous Kill, I was puzzled. Every commercial for it would play up the hype of Al Pacino and Robert De Niro finally working together, as if it was some revolutionary proposition. I could never figure out how the novelty of the duo could be expected to work so well when they had already gone “toe to toe” on-screen in Michael Mann’s Heat, and done so with spectacular results. The difference in the two efforts is like night and day. Righteous Kill saw the two icons recycling the same roles they had been picking up for over a decade, depending on their reputations to try and carry a subpar screenplay and film. Heat, on the other hand, shows two legends with the ability to take terrific writing and elevate it to another level.

There is sure to be debate on whether Heat qualifies as a crime masterpiece or just another run of the mill cops and robbers drama. Judging where I stand on the question is obvious considering that I have chosen it as the top film of 1995. That being said, I don’t deny that there are moments in Michael Mann’s otherwise solid screenplay that trade on tried and true clichés of the genre. But when the movie is good, it’s damn good, and the cast involved – not just Pacino and De Niro, but also Val Kilmer and Ashley Judd – give outstanding performances throughout.

Michael Mann had been battling for some time just to get Heat made. He used the general storyline of a cop and a professional thief meeting and declaring that they intended to the play the game out in their own way as the centerpiece of a screenplay he penned in the early 1980s. After not initially garnering much in the way of interest for a major motion picture, he instead reworked and shortened the script in order to use it for the 1989 TV movie entitled L.A. Takedown. Focusing only on the central story of the cat and mouse game between the cop and the thief, the story is like a barebones version of what he would eventually direct in 1995. Because of time constraints – the entire period allowed for pre-production and shooting was about a month – L.A. Takedown is half the length of Heat and includes none of the various subplots that are woven into the later film. After the success of 1992’s The Last of the Mohicans, Mann decided to revisit the original screenplay he had authored in the early 80s, before he cut it down to fit the TV format. With a major budget and full shooting schedule, Mann was able to produce the film he had originally intended.


Pacino and De Niro are ideal choices as the two principals, playing a cop and a robber, both of whom are considered the best in their respective fields. De Niro is Neil McCauley, a world class thief who oversees a crew of crooks that make their living by pulling off major heists. These are not men who deal in petty cash and scores of swag. They deal in securities, jewelry, substantial sums of money. McCauley is fanatically committed to his work, leading a solitary life and living by this simple motto: “Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.” His crew is also tight, with men like explosives expert and gunman Chris (Val Kilmer), wheelman Trejo (Danny Trejo) and loyal companion Tom Cheritto (Tom Sizemore). They work together, they hang together, they stick together. Things get complicated when they use an outsider on an armored truck heist. The man, Waingro (Kevin Gage), is a renegade who inexplicably begins gunning down workers on the truck rather than simply holding them at bay. When McCauley tries to take care of Waingro afterward, he manages to escape, leaving a major liability to the entire crew on the run.

Enter Pacino as Vincent Hanna, a lieutenant from the Robbery-Homicide Division of the LAPD. He is as fanatically devoted to his role as an officer as McCauley is to his line of work. Although not as solitary as McCauley, Hanna also leads a lonely existence as his work is his only true passion. After two failed marriages, he is giving it a go for a third time but his work habits create friction on the home front with his wife Justine (Diane Venora). Hanna takes over the case of the armored truck robbery, slowly inching his way closer to the previously unidentified group of thieves. As he begins uncovers information, a respect begins to develop between Hanna and McCauley. The surveillance and counter-surveillance performed by both cops and criminals becomes a game of each faction trying to one-up the other. When McCauley takes one final lucrative job, after which he plans to retire and run away with his new girlfriend Eady (Amy Brenneman), Hanna scrambles to make sure that his men are there to catch the crew in the act.

At three hours in length, there are a variety of supplementary characters and subplots. The relationship between Chris and his domineering wife Charlene (Ashley Judd) is always tumultuous due to Chris' gambling problem. Jon Voight and Tom Noonan play calculating professional underworld brokers. There are negotiations over stolen bonds between the McCauley crew and the original owner of the bonds, Roger Van Zant (William Fitchtner). A recently released ex-con (Dennis Haysbert) tries unsuccessfully to hold a steady job and lead a normal life, but is instead coaxed by McCauley into being the wheelman on the final job. There are many such ancillary plotlines, but the main focus of everything that happens is the back and forth between Hanna and McCauley, which in turn means a clash of the titans between the two most legendary actors of their era.


The diner scene, from which the quote at the beginning of this post comes, is a brilliantly intense event. Hanna invites McCauley to have a cop of coffee with him and the two sit down like old chums. They take innocent swipes at each other, pawing around the central issue of knowing that eventually the endgame of their entire relationship is likely to end in a shootout. The respect between the two professionals is obvious, but both have too much of an ego to allow the other to gain an upper hand. The speech between them is sharp, and both make it clear to the other that when push comes to shove, they will not hesitate to kill the other. Mann shot the scene by having one camera across the table from each actor and kept each camera on them the entire time. Pacino would reveal in later interviews that, as is usual with Michael Mann, they did countless number of takes, which is surprising considering how laid back and natural the entire scene feels. If this was the only moment in film history that the two ever appeared on screen together, I would be happy. It is like a perfect cap to their work together, which is all the more reason that I wish Righteous Kill had never been made - I just want to remember this as their final collaborative statement.


As has come to be expected of Mann, the movie contains some impeccable action sequences. Working with cinematographer Dante Spinotti – who, as a side note, has a surprisingly impressive list of films to his credit – there are quite a few scenes that are among the best you’ll find in crime films. The opening armored truck heist is great. So too is when Hanna and his cops believe that they are spying on a secret meeting of the crew, only to find out that McCauley is actually manipulating them out into the open so that he can get pictures of them for himself. And the shootout during the final robbery, with Val Kilmer calmly walking out of a Los Angeles bank with an automatic rifle and spotting the cops, is exhilarating.

I said earlier that the movie was not without its faults, so it’s only fair that I point out some of the minor things that have always bothered me. There are some crime caper clichés, such as the ex-con that is trying to go good but is forced back into crime by an overbearing boss. Things like that just seem too pat, but fortunately they are minor factors in the overall story. Likewise, the angle concerning McCauley and his new girlfriend Eady can come across as very forced. I understand why the inclusion of such a relationship is necessary – the idea of being able to walk away from anything as soon as you feel the heat is central to the entire story. It’s just that there are times when the dynamic between the two just doesn’t feel very believable. And in all honesty, even I am sometimes annoyed at the antics of Pacino as Hanna. Perhaps that is what the character calls for, but it can be a bit too much.

In the end, considering my tastes, perhaps this is a movie that was simply tailor-made for someone like me. I’ll definitely be interested to see how others rate it. At its finest moments, I think it’s as good as anything done in crime movies in quite some time. And while it might not quite be my favorite Michael Mann film (that honor actually belongs to The Last of the Mohicans), it is quite easily my #1 of 1995.

Rating: 9/10

Other Contenders for 1995: This is another year that for me has a lot of very good films, but lacks the great films that are found throughout so many other years of the 1990s. All of my nearlies are ones I really enjoy, but none that I would likely consider the best of any year. The closest of the bunch is probably Jim Jarmusch’s unique western Dead Man. It’s an always fascinating take on the genre and a movie that keeps you thinking long after it ends. I also really like Martin Scorsese’s Casino, but don’t think it’s near the level of Scorsese’s true gangster masterpiece Goodfellas. Oliver Stone’s Nixon doesn’t approach the same power as JFK, but it’s still an interesting mix of politics and mystery. Others that I like: Se7en (David Fincher), Braveheart (Mel Gibson), Le Ceremonie (Claude Chabrol), and Apollo 13 (Ron Howard).

One movie that I am surprisingly not a big fan of, but that most would expect me to like, is Bryan Singer’s The Usual Suspects. It has never really worked for me.

1990: Goodfellas (Martin Scorsese)

Released: September 21, 1990

Director: Martin Scorsese; Screenplay: Nicholas Pileggi and Martin Scorsese based on the book Wiseguy by Nicholas Pileggi; Cinematography: Michael Ballhaus; Studio: Warner Bros.; Producer: Irwin Winkler

Cast: Ray Liotta (Henry Hill), Robert De Niro (Jimmy Conway), Joe Pesci (Tommy DeVito), Lorraine Bracco (Karen Hill), Paul Sorvino (Paul Cicero), Chuck Low (Morrie Kessler), Frank DiLeo (Tuddy Cicero), Frank Sivero (Frank Carbone), Johnny Williams (Johnny Roastbeef), Mike Starr (Frenchy), Frank Vincent (Billy Batts), Jim Colella (Jim Colella), Samuel L. Jackson (Stacks Edwards), Frank Adonis (Anthony Stabile), Catherine Scorsese (Tommy DeVito’s Mother), Gina Mastrogiacomo (Janice Rossi), Julie Garfield (Mickey Conway), Debi Mazar (Sandy), Michael Imperioli (Spider), Christopher Serrone (Young Henry Hill)

- “As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.”

A shocker, I’m sure, considering the name of this blog. There’s simply no getting around the impact that this film has had on me as a movie fan and it’s one of the rare instances where I am almost hesitant to even try and evaluate why. I don’t want to spoil anything by overanalyzing. I think it’s an undeniable masterpiece and serves as the perfect foil to the equally brilliant Godfather trilogy, giving a nice counterpoint to the romanticized view of organized crime that is often interpreted in Coppola’s films. If The Godfather is the romanticized view of organized crime, depicting regal mafia dons who rule as something akin to benevolent monarchs, then Goodfellas is the gritty rebuttal, portraying the actual crooks and soldiers who populate the underworld and the precariousness of their very existences.

This is not to say that I prefer one over the other – that’s an argument I can’t even reconcile in my own mind. But I do approach them differently and think that each gives a different picture of the same subject. Instead of seeing honorable, almost mythical men like Don Corleone, a man who deplores drug dealing and is portrayed as something of a conservative, in Goodfellas we are made to see what it is like for those just trying to survive in the underworld. We see the robberies, the beatings, the drug dealing, the completely senseless violence. And I suppose that the argument can be made that with the popularity of the film that it is somehow glorifying the violence, but I disagree. In the end, I think Scorsese makes it perfectly clear that this is not a glamorous lifestyle – things end well for no one.


The story is based on journalist Nicholas Pileggi’s book Wiseguy, which is an account of the life of gangster turned informant Henry Hill. Hill, a half-Irish half-Sicilian growing up in Brooklyn, from a young age idolizes the Lucchese crime family gangsters that live and work across the street from his apartment. Seeing them coming and going as they please, doing whatever they like, Hill becomes determined to be one of them. This leads him to a job at the nearby cabstand run by Tuddy (Frank DiLeo), whose brother Paul (Paul Sorvino) is the neighborhood boss. Ignoring the pleas (and sometimes beatings) from his family trying to keep him away from the gangsters, the young Henry (Christopher Serrone) decides that this is the life he will lead. He no longer has any need for school, work, or other common adolescent pursuits. He just wants to learn how to make scores – as he says, a dollar here, a dollar there.

The story then progress as Henry (Ray Liotta) grows up, joining forces with lifelong compatriots Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro) and Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci). In Jimmy, Henry finds his mentor. A savvy criminal and a man who genuinely enjoys the crime and politics of the underworld. Since he is Irish, Conway can never be an officially made man. But he essentially functions with the same power as one, working for Paulie and overseeing the various schemes of Henry and Tommy. Tommy DeVito is the loose cannon of the crew, a sociopath who routinely flies into murderous rages. At the same time, he is a loyal friend and somebody who is capable of moments of hilarity. We see them pulling off all variety of heists – from simple stick-ups and truck hijackings to intricately devised airport thefts. And we also see the endless double-dealing and backstabbing that is routine in a world where your best friend could be your executioner. After stints in prison and movement into the world of drug trafficking, we see the lives of all the principals begin to unravel, leaving Henry to make a monumental choice: risk survival on the street or testify against his lifelong friends.


For a movie that is two and a half hours long, it moves at a breakneck pace, which was apparently Scorsese’s goal. He would later state that he wanted the movie to start like a gunshot and just pick up steam from there, ultimately reaching the point where things would be so out of control that they would have to unravel. Scorsese accomplishes precisely this and it is an example of how in control he was throughout the entire making of this film. Every time that I watch, it is glaringly obvious that you are witnessing a director who is confident to do whatever he wants on the screen. This is the film I turn to whenever I think of Scorsese’s technical virtuosity. There are sequences in this film that are just brilliant and show that Scorsese can match technical chops with anyone. The two famous tracking shots are sublime. The first is the introductions of all of Henry’s various compatriots in Paulie’s crew, with the camera gliding through a nightclub as Henry introduces each of them. Even more spectacular is the entrance of Henry and his future wife Karen (Lorraine Bracco) through the rear entrance of the Copacabana. It is virtuoso directing, and the performances play it perfectly – I’m always struck by Liotta bumping into a table in the process and always think that most directors would have edited out such a misstep. It’s left in here and it feels so natural. Or how about when the bodies of members of the Lufthansa heist crew begin turning up throughout the city. The camera moves so gracefully in revealing bodies in Cadillacs or hung in meat freezers, with the strains of the piano exit from the classic song “Layla” played in the background. Scorsese evidently had “Layla” played live on the set while shooting this sequence.

Most impressive of all for me is the chapter near the end of the film that is referred to as “Last Day as a Wiseguy.” By this point in the film, Henry’s life is spiraling completely out of control. He knows that he is in hot water with Jimmy and Paulie and is relying more and more on cocaine as his only steady income. In the process, both he and Karen have developed significant personal cocaine habits. On this day, Henry is trying to juggle various tasks – delivering silencers to Jimmy, meeting his cocaine connection, picking up his brother, organizing the next smuggling trip for a girl – and is stressed beyond his limit. Putting him even more on edge is the fact that he is certain that there is a helicopter following him everywhere he goes. Scorsese is able to visually portray this sense of paranoia and stress in the way that he films and cuts the footage. Teaming with longtime collaborator and editor Thelma Schoonmaker, they utilize quick jump cuts to show the frenetic pace at which Henry’s coked out mind is moving. It really does convey the fact that this man’s life is at the breaking point and that he could snap at any moment. Plus, the soundtrack to this entire sequence is just about perfect, jumping between styles and moods – Tripping Daisy’s “Jump Into the Fire,” “Monkey Man” by The Rolling Stones, “What Is Life” by George Harrison, Muddy Waters’ “Manish Boy.” It is wildly paced, as it should be.


The strong ensemble cast once again proves the fact that Scorsese has a knack for extracting top-notch performances from everyone in his films. I can’t think of any other performance in the career of Ray Liotta that stands out to me, but he shines as Henry Hill. In my mind, he’ll always be Henry. Robert De Niro certainly had better performances while working with Scorsese, but he plays Jimmy the Gent with the calculative and callous nature necessary for the character. Paul Sorvino as old-school boss Paulie Cicero is brooding and believable. Lorraine Bracco also deserves recognition for her portrayal of Karen Hill, Henry’s feisty wife who is eventually consumed by the gangster lifestyle as well. It is interesting to watch her progression from naïve housewife to basically a co-conspirator in her husband’s drug operations.

But the award winner of the bunch, and the tour de force of the film, is Joe Pesci. I said it a few weeks back in my review of Raging Bull, but I’ll go ahead and repeat myself. Seeing some of the more frivolous roles of his career – things like Jimmy Hollywood, Gone Fishin’, and The Super – makes it easy to lose sight of what an incredible actor Pesci can be. His role as Joey LaMotta is still probably his best, but his portrayal of Tommy DeVito is very close. He is the modern-day version of characters like Tom Powers or Cody Jarrett from the golden days of Hollywood. The man is a psychopath and his sudden, unexpected outbursts of violence truly are startling. Instances like his killing of the young kid Spider (Michael Imperioli) for failing to bring him a drink are jarring, even to someone jaded by killing in mafia movies. At the same time, Tommy is a character that can be incredibly funny. Everyone is familiar with the famed “I’m a clown?” routine between Tommy and Henry, but there are other moments that always make me laugh as well. Things like Tommy trying to convince Henry to go on a double date with him or his feigning worry when Henry predictably stands Karen up on the second date. Or after he shoots Spider and Henry declares that the kid is dead and Tommy matter-of-factly responds, “I’m a good shot, whattya want from me?” It’s horrible to laugh at something like this, but you can’t help but laugh at how normal all of this is to these men.


I could go on for days talking about my passion for this film and I love the fact that I could use this countdown as an excuse to revisit it yet again. I’ll just close by acknowledging the fact that this is the movie that made me realize that a film could be massively popular and entertaining while at the same time attaining the artistic level of “arthouse” films. Depending on the day you ask, there’s a good chance that I would name this my favorite film of all time, so it quite easily takes the top spot of 1990.

Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1990: This was actually an outstanding year of favorites for me. There are four films that I consider to line up nicely behind Scorsese’s masterpiece. The Coen Brothers’ Miller’s Crossing is another gangster film that has seen its stature grow over the years. At times over the top, and always maintaining the quirkiness that is synonymous with the Coens, it ranks among my favorites in their entire body of work. Jacob’s Ladder (Adrian Lyne) is one of the few movies that has ever truly scared me and it will play with your mind long after watching. While it had no business beating out Goodfellas for Best Picture, I actually do really like Kevin Costner’s Dances With Wolves. It is a bit too politically correct, but it’s still enjoyable. And finally, probably the most controversial of my nearlies, is Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather Part III. Is it anywhere near the same level as the first two? No, and Coppola's casting of his daughter was a horrible mistake. But there are certain moments that I really like in it and I think that it is much better than generally acknowledged.

1984: Once Upon a Time in America (Sergio Leone)

Released: June 1, 1984 (U.S.)

a.k.a.: C'era una volta in America

Director: Sergio Leone; Screenplay: Leonardo Benvenuti, Piero De Bernardi, Enrico Medioli, Franco Arcalli, Sergio Leone, and Stuart Kaminsky based on the novel “The Hoods” by Harry Grey; Cinematography: Tonino Delli Colli; Studio: Warner Bros.; Producer: Arnon Milchan; Music: Ennio Morricone

Cast: Robert De Niro (David “Noodles” Aaronson), James Woods (Max Bercovicz and Christopher Bailey), Elizabeth McGovern (adult Deborah Gelly), Jennifer Connolly (young Deborah Gelly), James Hayden (Patrick “Patsy” Goldberg), William Forsythe (Philip “Cockeye” Stein), Tuesday Weld (Carol), Larry Rapp (Moe “Fats” Gelly), Joe Pesci (Frankie Minaldi), Treat Williams (James Conway O’Donnell), James Russo (Bugsy), Amy Ryder (Peggy), Burt Young (Joe Minaldi), Danny Aiello (Police Chief Vincent Aiello), Noah Mozelli (Dominic)

- “But it went bad for him, and it went bad for me too…”

It has always been funny to me how Italian director Sergio Leone, a man whose name is synonymous with the term “spaghetti western,” would make his final statement in cinema by crafting a New York City gangster film centered on Jewish hoodlums. I don’t know which part of that statement makes me laugh more. That the man who made the classic Man With No Name Trilogy and the incredible western epic Once Upon a Time in the West, comes back in the 1980s and arguably trumps every movie he ever made – and does so with something far different from the westerns he was acclaimed for. Or even funnier might be the fact that here is a man from the country where the stereotypical “gangster,” as personified in The Godfather films, hailed from. It would only be natural to assume that he would follow a similar route in depicting a large, powerful Italian-American crime syndicate. Instead, Leone chose to focus on a tight-knit foursome of Jewish hoodlums as they grew up in Lower Manhattan and maneuvered to stay relevant in the underworld.

Leone quickly drops you right into the story, as early in the film there is a brutal torture-murder, showing that former gangster Noodles Aaronson (Robert De Niro) is on the run from somebody. Precisely who or what has summoned Noodles back to New York is unknown, but the viewer is quickly drawn into the mystery, finding out the details at the same time that Noodles himself does. As Noodles returns to his old haunts on the Lower East Side, he begins to fondly look back upon his childhood in the area and remember the core group of friends that he grew up with. As a kid, he and his friends began as a wannabes rolling drunks at a nearby bar. Soon they began to work their way up even higher, doing favors for local gangster bigwigs by helping them hide bootleg liquor shipments from the coast guard. This increase in local status comes at the expense of other neighborhood tough guys, resulting in trouble for the young gang. After a fight with one such neighborhood tough, one of Noodles’ pals is killed while Noodles himself is sent to prison.


When he emerges from jail as a man years later, Noodles finds his pal Max (James Woods) waiting for him. He quickly comes to learn that his old gang – Max, Patsy (James Hayden), and Cockeye (William Forsythe) – is riding high and making a killing during Prohibition. They are now major players in the underworld, even making alliances with powerful Italian gangs. Noodles’ life is still complicated, though. His lover affair with a childhood friend Deborah (Elizabeth McGovern) doesn’t work, resulting in his appalling rape of her before saying goodbye. Meanwhile, as Max hungers to move the gang into respectable white collar rackets, Noodles longs for nothing more than the easygoing status quo. As he says, he likes the stench of the streets. When Max begins to hatch a scheme to hit Fort Knox for one big final score, Noodles thinks his friend might be losing his mind. Rather than go through with participation in the heist, Noodles instead tips off police in order to catch his pals before they get hurt. Unfortunately, all three are killed in the ensuing battle over the robbery.

Or are they? Long after, when Noodles has left New York and abandoned his life of crime, he begins receiving mysterious letters and messages from someone that appears to have knowledge of his past. Noodles is drawn back to the city to investigate and makes a discovery that seems miraculous to him. There is a highly influential politician named Christopher Bailey that bears an uncanny resemblance to Max.


This synopsis overly simplifies the entire story and leaves many supplementary subplots and characters out. The film really has to be seen in its entirety in order to take in how huge and epic in scope it is. For many folks this is not an easy film to love. Even when I watched it for the first time in high school I was a little put off by the pacing of the first third of the film. Based on the topic of the story and director at the helm, I suppose I was expecting something along the lines of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly meets The Public Enemy. It's certainly not that. The early pacing, where many people are put off from the film, is actually now a favorite of mine. I love the depiction of the early lives of the kids growing up in the slums of Manhattan. It makes them very endearing personalities, so that you actually care what happens to them when you see them grow into men. There are truly touching scenes in these early sections, such as when Patsy buys a cupcake in order to lure favors from a promiscuous neighborhood girl. While waiting for her to come out, the temptation of the treat is too much for him to resist. He tries to placate himself simply to taking a swipe of the icing. When that doesn’t suffice, he goes for the cherry. When that too is not enough, he ends up furiously consuming the entire thing.

The other thing that works incredibly well for a movie of this length is how true everyone seems to stay to the personalities they exhibit as kids. When Noodles emerges from jail, the grown-up versions of his pals seem like I would have expected based on how they acted as children. Max sees himself as the leader and brains of the gang, always wanting to feel in charge. Noodles is the right hand man, possibly even the true power, but is content to take a step back and let Max play the big boss. Patsy is the suave, young-looking ladies man. Cockeye is the loyal bulldog. Just as they were as kids fighting their way up to overtake the dreaded Bugsy.


There are also scenes that are just incredibly powerful. In particular I am always struck by the scene in which the childhood gang is hunted down by Bugsy (James Russo) and the young Dominic is shot and killed (Noah Mozelli). Even more striking for me are the final scenes in the film, as an aged, graying Noodles travels to the mansion of Christopher Bailey to try and unravel this puzzle that he finds himself in. When he comes face to face with Bailey, who clearly has to be his old pal Max, it is one of the most gripping scenes I’ve ever seen. It’s downright sad. Noodles tells to the story to “Bailey” about what happened – about how he turned in a friend in order to save him – and it feels like someone finally being able to say goodbye to a longtime friend. It ranks among my favorite scenes of all time from any movie.


An interesting topic I at least want to address is a theory that has been proposed by some that the older version of Noodles returning to New York is actually a fantasy. It is interesting and not something that should be quickly dismissed. The thing that makes it so intriguing is that the movie both opens and ends in 1933, in the same location – Noodles at an opium den shortly after having called the cops on his gang. The hypothesis then is that in this drug-induced haze, Noodles begins to reminisce about his past and dream about a possible future. There has never been any definitive proof one way or the other, although it is said that Leone himself at one point endorsed such an interpretation. I don’t know of any way to prove or disprove it, but I think that the story works much better when it is thought of this way. It explains how it is that something as preposterous as a high profile gangster like Max could fake his death and then recreate himself as a public figure, all the while maintaining the exact same physical appearance. It also helps to explain how it is that Noodles’s love interest, Deborah, miraculously never ages throughout the entire film, a time frame spanning some 30 years. This could be a result of Noodles imagining her as he wants to remember her. And it would seem to validate the reasoning for beginning and ending the film with Noodles getting high in an opium den in the ‘30s. I's not essential to read the film this way, but this is my own take on it. Fortunately, it works quite well either way, reading it as a dream or literally.

I also cannot go the entire review without acknowledging the extraordinary score from Ennio Morricone. Everything that the man ever did was brilliant, but a strong argument can be made that his score here is the finest work he ever produced. Personally, I slightly prefer the music of Once Upon a Time in the West, but it would be hard to imagine this film eliciting the same response from viewers without Morricone’s contribution. The music perfectly fits the mood, which is what Morricone did best.

Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1984: This was an outstanding year in cinema. There are a number of films that would be contenders in any year and that I actually prefer to winners in many other years of this countdown. The standout among the runners-up for me is Milos Forman’s Amadeus. I love everything about it – the sets, the costumes, the characters, and yes, the music. A great film and one that I can’t believe is being left out of the countdown, but that is how it goes. Other outstanding films from this year are: Blood Simple (Coen Brothers), Broadway Danny Rose (Woody Allen), The Killing Fields (Roland Joffe), Paris, Texas (Wim Wenders) and Stranger Than Paradise (Jim Jarmusch).

1983: The King of Comedy (Martin Scorsese)

Released: February 18, 1983 (U.S.)

Director: Martin Scorsese; Screenplay: Paul D. Zimmerman; Cinematography: Fred Schuler; Studio: 20th Century Fox; Producers: Arnon Milchan and Joseph P. Grace; Music: Robbie Robertson

Cast: Robert De Niro (Rupert Pupkin), Jerry Lewis (Jerry Langford), Sandra Bernhard (Masha), Diahnne Abbott (Rita Keane), Shelley Hack (Cathy Long), Ed Herlihy (Ed Herlihy), Martin Scorsese (TV Director)

- "Why not me? Why not? A guy can get anything he wants as long as he pays the price. What's wrong with that? Stranger things have happened."

The King of Comedy is an interesting case study in how certain groups look at a movie. This statement runs the risk of making me sound incredibly pretentious and elitist, but I stand by it. The general consensus among the average movie fan is that this is a sad attempt by Scorsese to make a comedy – perhaps the title implies that one would expect to have a laugh out loud experience. Many feel that it shows that Marty needs to stick to crime and gangster films. To many critics and hardcore cineastes, however, The King of Comedy remains a Scorsese gem. It may be overshadowed by the other great Scorsese-De Niro collaborations, but it remains among the finest work of either man.

Picking it as my #1 of 1983 makes it obvious that I am clearly in the second camp. And I hate to even use the description in that first paragraph, as it could be interpreted as me claiming to somehow be more “enlightened” in my appreciation of this film. That is not the case at all and in many instances my views line up closely with the average moviegoer. Still, I think the dynamic I describe is accurate and incredibly fascinating. While the casual movie fan would be unlikely to cite The King of Comedy among Scorsese’s best, many critics are very quick to do so. There are only a handful of films that I can think of that have a divide like this. This is certainly not to say that there are only a select few who admire this movie. Its critical reputation is currently skyhigh. And at the 1980s countdown at Wonders in the Dark, Allan (ever the picky critic!) placed it at #22 in his best of the decade. Most of the fine folks who comment there were in agreement that it ranks among the best in Scorsese’s career. There was some expected disagreement on placement in terms of the entire decade, but nearly everyone agreed that it deserved much praise.

I might be misguided in this belief, but I genuinely think that the title throws many unsuspecting viewers. Even I went into it thinking that it was intended to be more of a traditional comedy than it actually is. While there certainly are many moments where you can’t help but chuckle at the antics of the unforgettable Rupert Pupkin, it is not the same type of laughter you experience with a classic comedy. It is more of a very uneasy laughter – a kind of uncomfortable amusement. You’re laughing, but you’re more troubled than amused.


The story follows an oddity of a man named Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro). Rupert is a rabid autograph seeker, hanging around stage doors and back alleys in hopes of tracking down passing celebrities. At the same time, Rupert is dying to break into show business and fancies himself an aspiring comic. While on one of his autograph missions, he happens to wind up in the back seat of famed comedian and talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis). Wanting nothing more than to get the crazed fan out of his car, Jerry tells Rupert to stop by his office some time and drop off some of his material. Rupert immediately takes this to mean that he has found his big break.

Predictably, things don’t exactly pan out as Rupert sees them happening in his grandiose daydreams and hallucinations. In these visions, he is seen dining with Jerry and hobnobbing with other celebrities around New York. Such ambitions are quickly dashed however when Rupert is rebuffed at Langford’s office. He never actually gets the chance to see Jerry and is instead told to work on his material. In response, Rupert hatches a crazy kidnapping scheme with fellow celebrity hound Masha (Sandra Bernhard), in which they plan to kidnap Jerry Langford. Instead of asking for money, Rupert’s ransom demand is to be given a spot on Jerry’s show that night so they he can display his standup skills to the entire world.


Every time I watch this movie I am struck by how far ahead of its time it was. Certainly there was a thriving celebrity culture at the time it was made, but it doesn’t even compare to things today. Think about it – not only do we still have autograph fanatics and stalkers of celebrities, we now have things like Twitter and other digital media sites that allow people to follow the activities of their favorite celebrities 24-hours a day. It seems like every celebrity who has the inclination is granted a reality TV show. Writer Paul Zimmerman and Scorsese take a cynical look at such a culture and do so with quite disturbing results.

Rather than looking at it is a normal comedy, I am much more inclined to compare this to another of Scorsese’s celebrated works, Taxi Driver. Although told in a much more lighthearted manner, I always see parallels between the stories of Travis Bickle and Rupert Pupkin. Both are lonely men who have visions of themselves doing great things – in Travis’s case ridding the New York streets of “scum” and for Rupert it is becoming a famous and loved comedian. When neither see their situations improving, they snap. And in both cases there are debates over how things turned out for each of them. After Travis went on his murderous rampage, he appears to be celebrated in the press. Is this true or is it Travis simply dreaming about how he views his actions? For Rupert, after serving prison time for the kidnapping, it looks as if he becomes the famous personality he has always wanted to be, with book deals and on-stage offers. But are these actually happening or are they simply more of the hallucinations of grandeur that have occurred throughout Rupert’s life? The brilliance of the ending in The King of Comedy is that it is even more ambiguous than in Taxi Driver. I always read Taxi Driver literally, believing that what is shown is what happened. It’s even harder to do this with The King of Comedy because of the daydreams and fancies of Rupert that we have already been privy to.


De Niro’s performance is just as impressive here as it was playing the crazed Bickle. At times it almost feels too real, as some of the situations you see Rupert in are so embarrassing it’s hard to watch. I’m the kind of person that can actually become embarrassed for other people and that is the situation that I constantly find myself in watching this movie. The first time I watched I nearly had to turn away when Rupert went to Langford’s office expecting a grand reception. De Niro plays Rupert with such sincerity it’s hard not to feel the embarrassment. The performance remains animated and at least moderately funny throughout, but it is ultimately as disturbing as watching Travis Bickle. And that is a statement that I never thought I would make.

The supporting performances are also very, very well done. Jerry Lewis essentially plays himself, with biting humor and one-liners. But you can’t help but feeling for him as he tries to figure out how to get this lunatic out of his life. Sandra Bernhard as Masha is just as deranged as Rupert, if not more so. While this movie does not show off the technical chops of Scorsese as many of his other virtuoso pieces do, I don’t think it is any coincidence that such strong performances are drawn out of each of the actors. His films are never one-man shows and always display a number of characters who are able to play off of each other – and most importantly, have actors strong enough to make such interplay interesting.

Rating: 9/10

Other Contenders for 1983: I have to say that this is a very weak year for me. I don’t know if it’s just a result of me not having seen enough or if it is in fact as weak as it looks. There are two big omissions for me, as I could not get hold of copies of L’Argent (Robert Bresson) or Nostalghia (Andrei Tarkovsky) in time to watch for this countdown. Neither was available on Netflix, which is normally how I watch those that I don’t already own. My #2 for the year would actually be Woody Allen’s mockumentary Zelig. I still find it hilarious. Of the others, here are the films that I would see that I still like: Danton (Andrzej Wajda), The Right Stuff (Philip Kaufman), and yes even Scarface (Brian De Palma), although its inclusion here is more a result of few others coming to mind to replace it. I have also always had a soft spot for The Outsiders (Francis Ford Coppola) since I was kid, although that might be more a result of my falling in love with S.E. Hinton’s novel from the first time I read it. Still, I continue to enjoy it.

1980: Raging Bull (Martin Scorsese)

Released: November 14, 1980 (U.S.)

Director: Martin Scorsese; Screenplay: Paul Schrader and Madrik Martin based on the book by Jake LaMotta with Joseph Carter and Peter Savage; Cinematography: Michael Chapman; Studio: United Artists; Producers: Robert Chartoff and Irwin Winkler

Cast: Robert De Niro (Jake LaMotta), Cathy Moriarty (Vickie LaMotta), Joe Pesci (Joey LaMotta), Frank Vincent (Salvy), Nicholas Colasanto (Tommy Como), Theresa Saldana (Lenora LaMotta), Mario Gallo (Mario), Johnny Barnes (Sugar Ray Robinson), Don Dunphy (Himself)

Is there any film released in the last 30 years that is as critically acclaimed as Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull? If there is, I’m unaware of it. Raging Bull was certainly well received upon its initial release and even voted the best film of the 1980s, but its reputation has done nothing but grow in the years since. It is now routinely placed amongst hallowed company, ranking near the top of “best movies of all time” polls and being considered on the short list of great American films. Right or wrong, love or hate Marty Scorsese, it’s impossible to deny the impact that Raging Bull has had and the legacy it has established. The movie is now routinely submitted as an example of how a major Hollywood production can achieve the same artistic success as more exotic arthouse cinema. In fact, it has also entered into the category of a movie that has generated a backlash precisely because of the praise that it has continued to receive. Disregarding the ridiculousness of such “counteracting criticism,” I think that the movie quite easily lives up to its reputation. This is another example of great American storytelling, documenting one man’s impressive rise and disturbing fall.

If there’s anything that I am more passionate about than movies, it’s boxing. I absolutely love the sport. For a short period of time I was actually fortunate enough to cover it as senior writer for a boxing website, and some of my most cherished memories are sitting ringside for world title fights. There is nothing that can equal the excitement and tension that builds for a championship bout. I bring this up, because it underscores the fact that if anyone is likely to be overly critical of a film that revolves around the sport, it would be me. There are plenty of movies dealing with boxing that have been highly praised by critics that I am indifferent toward. So I’ll just go ahead and say what will be an obvious statement to many, but is still quite subjective: not only is Raging Bull the greatest boxing movie ever made, it’s the greatest sports movie as well.


There is, however, a small caveat. This is another instance where labeling it a “boxing movie” can be too narrow a classification. The movie is not so much about the actual sweet science itself as it is a character study about a fighter. This is not to say that the actual fighting is not significant, because it is an essential element in the personality of Jake LaMotta. But had there never been any fighting filmed, the study of LaMotta’s descent into abuse and personal struggles would still have been riveting. Perhaps this is the key to the movie’s excellence. As revolutionary as the boxing action staged by Scorsese and cinematographer Michael Chapman was at the time, there is a limit to the reality that can be created in choreographing scenes in the ring. No matter how inventive it gets, it is never going to be able to completely recreate the action, drama, and even violence of a live fight. Any movie that is depending on such sequences to carry it will find that they have created a film that might be entertaining one time through, but will otherwise leave little impression. So while Scorsese did focus on attempting to make the boxing scenes as realistic as possible – even attending many fights at Madison Square Garden to pick up on minor visual details to supplement the shots – it is never the essential focus of the story.


The focus is obviously on the story of Jake LaMotta and the rightfully lauded performance of Robert De Niro as the "Bronx Bull." De Niro was actually the genesis of the entire project, as he brought the idea for the biopic to Scorsese. De Niro had become captivated with the story after reading the book while on the set of Bertolucci’s 1900. Initially spurning the idea, Scorsese eventually came onboard and things began to fall into place. An initial screenplay written by Madrik Martin was unimpressive and so Scorsese turned to Paul Schrader to craft and hone the script. The two had already had great success, along with De Niro, with 1976’s Taxi Driver. It evidently was Schrader who added another essential ingredient to the story, inserting the character Jake’s brother Joey, played brilliantly by Joe Pesci, into the script. De Niro used method acting for the part, meeting extensively with Jake LaMotta himself, along with brief periods with his ex-wife Vicki and brother Joey. De Niro even embarked on a serious boxing training regimen under the tutelage of LaMotta himself and legendary trainer Al Silvani. After the movie’s release, LaMotta would comment that De Niro actually possessed some natural in-ring talent.

But again, it’s not the in-ring talent that is most astounding about De Niro’s performance. It’s the ability for him to take the mental anguish that haunted the life of Jake La Motta and make it seem real. A less talented actor would try and capture the shocking and violent mood swings that would characterize the life of LaMotta and have them come across as fake and overly bi-polar. With De Niro it feels absolutely genuine. Early in the movie it becomes apparent that this is a man on the fast track to greatness and fame in his sport. LaMotta is one of the best fighters in the world, inching ever closer to a coveted world title. He has every reason to be content, and even happy, with the life that he is leading. When he meets a neighborhood teenager Vickie (Cathy Moriarty) and the two soon fall in love, it seems like this is the best life that a young fighter from the Bronx could hope for. Yet for the entirety of the film, it is as if he is never truly happy. There are odd moments when he might laugh or smile – usually when he is trying to seduce Vickie or another female – but there is always a disturbing uneasiness underlying everything that he does. LaMotta’s insecurities simply will not allow him to be content. Convinced that everyone is out to get him – his trainer/brother, his own wife, organized crime – Jake responds the best way that he knows how, by lashing out violently. I maintain that the strength of De Niro’s performance lies in the ability to make such eruptions believable, rather than violence just for the sake of it. This is a paranoid man in a fight with himself, but who can never seem to overcome the demons that he harbors. I love this movie, but to this day I still am unsettled by some of things done by LaMotta throughout the story. That’s how powerful some of the scenes are. When Jake pummels his brother Joey, convinced that he had a relationship with Vickie before they were married, it’s incredibly sad and disconcerting.


This is where boxing does become important to the story, however, in that the ring functions as the place where LaMotta can atone for his sins. This is the aspect that apparently drew Scorsese to the picture – to show, in his words, that the ring is “an allegory for life.” LaMotta recognizes that his actions toward people that he cares for are at times hideous and it is as if he goes into the ring and fights to punish himself. To this day the chin and toughness of Jake LaMotta are the stuff of legend in the boxing world. Writers and gym rats around the country still marvel at how a man could absorb punishment like LaMotta (if you don’t believe, just YouTube his “St. Valentine’s Day Massacre” fight with Sugar Ray Robinson). As Scorsese and De Niro portray it, this is due to more than just toughness and an unwillingness to lose. It is also penance for LaMotta.

It is a horrifyingly spectacular performance from De Niro, but he is not the only one to shine. This will be something of a confession, and I am in no way diminishing the greatness of De Niro’s performance, but my favorite in the film has always been that of Joe Pesci. I expect near universal disagreement on this point, but it’s just slight personal preference. Say what you will about Joe Pesci and some of his role selections, but at his best (here, Goodfellas, JFK), the man can be a powerhouse. His Joey LaMotta adds both another dramatic subplot to the story, as well as regularly contributing some lighthearted lines to an otherwise bleak tale. Pesci’s performance is so affecting for me because of where the relationship between the two brothers eventually ends. It’s tragic how somebody like Joey can be so loyal to his talented sibling, doing everything from preparing him for fights to keeping the Mafia at arm’s length, and then be treated as Jake treats him. I don’t think I’m being at all melodramatic in saying that it’s heartbreaking.


As is usual in Scorsese’s best films, the supporting cast that fleshes out the environment is equally superb. For someone charged with working opposite Robert De Niro in her very first film role, Moriarty looks far from a rookie. Veteran mob player Frank Vincent is very good as the shifty Salvy, a wannabe wiseguy who is always trying to get close to Jake. And for anyone who is unable to picture Nicholas Colasanto as anyone other Coach in Cheers, he is outstanding as the smooth gangster Tommy Como.

Still, we cannot forget to praise Scorsese. His technical chops are often on display. Few scenes in film are as gorgeous as the opening of De Niro alone in the ring shadowboxing, set to the strains of the Intermezzo from Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana. The decision to film in black and white, at the suggestion of Chapman, turned out to be a wise one. It allowed the movie a very authentic feel, one that captured the feel of a weekend fight cards at the Garden and the smoking back room deals being made by characters like Tommy Como. And for all of the camera virtuosity that Scorsese is routinely associated with, the style throughout much of this movie is almost that of simple voyeurism. It’s nearly documentary-like at times, as if a camera has simply been placed in a room and allowed us to watch the interaction between Jake and others. This works extremely well and gives everything a very realistic veneer.

Rating: 10/10

Other Contenders for 1980: Burt Lancaster is just all over this countdown! The next best film for me in this year is his leading role in Louis Malle's Atlantic City. This is one that I saw for the first time only about a month ago and it immediately made an impression on me. Lancaster was such a talent and somebody who deserves credit for working in so many different settings and with different directors. The other movies from this year that I would acknowledge would be The Shining (Stanley Kubrick), The Big Red One (Samuel Fuller), The Empire Strikes Back (Irvin Kershner).

A glaring omission for me in this year and that I'm really eager to finally see is R.W. Fassbinder's Berlin Alexanderplatz. Hopefully this doesn't invalidate my selection in this year in anyway, I just wasn't able to get to it in time (things are busy at the moment). But I'm really looking forward to it!