When I was young, I thought house painters painted houses. What did I know? I was a working guy, a business agent for Teamster Local 107 out of South Philly. One of a thousand working stiffs, until I wasn’t no more. And then I started painting houses myself.
To paint houses, in gangster slang implies – to kill people. The paint stands for the blood that bursts out when a person is shot.
The Irishman (2019) is an impressive, free-flowing Martin Scorsese masterpiece based on the nonfiction book I Heard You Paint Houses by Charles Brandt.
The book contains the so-called confessions of contract killer Frank Sheeran, who, when we meet him in The Irishman, is senile and wrinkled at an old age home.
Sheeran claims to know what really happened to powerful union leader Jimmy Hoffa and commences to speak about the events leading up to the climatic incident. This itself is a shocking and dubious claim. Hoffa has been missing since July 30, 1975, and when a person is missing for an extended time period, the term ‘legally dead’ is used. Hoffa was declared dead in 1982.
Entertaining ‘tell it all’ version
The screenplay adapts Sheeran’s (Robert De Niro) version, so this is not about authenticity, but an engaging point of view about the role of American mafia in the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s in the US.
Not once in its marathon three-hour plus running time does the movie seem stretched, the screenplay is relentlessly fascinating, the back and forth neatly done, the tale never feeling jumpy despite the three timelines.
Scorsese keeps the storytelling steam at full power from scene one, I was fixated till the end credits and beyond.
The Irishman is best watched in one sitting, with a tiny break in between, such is the flow of the story, it is one river of a gangster saga. Scorsese has never been this sublime and spot on in his narrative style.
The de-aging problem
The de-aging technology has more than mixed results. It mars the otherwise excellent movie and brings it down several notches. Sometimes the touchup seems to cloud the original expressions, sometimes it is part-convincing, it never feels fully believable that one forgets it’s been used. Robert De Niro is one of the greatest actors of our time, but Scorsese clearly miscast him in playing the younger version of Frank Sheeran.
De Niro has clearly aged and is showing it. Considering this is a role that needed him to be moving, flexible, with a spring in his step, De Niro is clearly struggling. Apparently, there was a coach to get De Niro, Pacino and Joe Pesci move and walk like a young man does, for the flashback parts. Clearly that didn’t work.
The question is then, why didn’t Scorsese consider two other actors to play the younger versions of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) and Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci)? Since Pacino had to play one consistent age throughout, the de-aging tech works best on him. It also improves on his already excellent performance as the stubborn-to-death Hoffa.
The Irishman review
A towering achievement in the gangster drama genre, as good as Goodfellas (1990) with great performances by Scorsese favourites Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, returning to the screen as gangsters, while Al Pacino dazzles and steals the show as the adamant American union leader Jimmy Hoffa.
Don’t miss The Irishman. The masters of the medium are in silken form here. The de-aging fiasco almost derails all the good done here, though, and does a great disservice to the actors.
