Almost everyone has observed that David O. Russell‘s American Hustle is Martin Scorsese– or Goodfellas-influenced. The general reaction to The Wolf of Wall Street is that it’s Scorsese on rocket fuel — an epic blowout and a wildly satirical takedown of ludicrous 1% greed. Yesterday Awards Daily‘s Sasha Stone suggested that “people seem to be dividing up between Wolf people and American Hustle people. To me one (i.e., Hustle) is good fun but a pretender — a screwball comedy that leaves you with nothing more than a smile on your face briefly but takes you nowhere ultimately. The other? A totally unforgettable experience.” For me The Wolf of Wall Street is the Best Picture of the Year — the only superbly made, dynamic-metaphor, earthquake-level movie out there. It’s insanely alive and knocks you flat on your ass and slams the ball into the upper bleachers. American Hustle is a tasty, well-seasoned, first-rate film by one of my favorite hombres, but it’s a ground-rule double or, at best, a triple because the outfielder fumbled and the runner went for the extra base.
On this side of the Atlantic some people actually cheer when a ’50s or ’60s-era film previously released in a 4 x 3 aspect ratio is cleavered down to a 1.75 or 1.85 aspect ratio for Bluray release. They actually applaud the removal of visual information. But the people behind last month’s British Bluray release of Terence Fisher‘s The Mummy (’59) see things differently. Read this “production information,” 1.85 Aspect Ratio Fascists, and weep: “[This is] the first-ever HD release of Hammer’s classic The Mummy, which has been unavailable on any Region 2 home entertainment format since 2004. The previously available DVD was authored at the incorrect aspect ratio of 1.77:1 and widely criticized by fans. The Region 1 edition, still available as an import, is also presented incorrectly at 1.77:1. This new release…presents the film in its original UK theatrical aspect ratio of 1.66:1 for the first time (the film has never before been released at this aspect ratio)” along with an “alternate full frame aspect ratio version — 1.37:1.” In other words, there are sane, movie-worshipping Catholics in England who also believe, under certain conditions, that “boxy is beautiful.”
“No, of course Scorsese doesn’t approve of Belfort’s actions; who would? We may wish that such behavior didn’t exist, but its existence is a central part of human nature, and there’s a reason that we can’t stop watching, just as we can’t stop watching the terrifying storm or the shark attack. Within the movie’s roiling, riotous turbulence is an Olympian detachment, a grand and cold consideration of life from a contemplative distance, as revealed in the movie’s last shot, which puts The Wolf of Wall Street squarely in the realm of the late film, with its lofty vision of ultimate things. It’s as pure and harrowing a last shot as those of John Ford’s 7 Women and Carl Theodor Dreyer’s Gertrud — an image that, if by some terrible misfortune were to be Scorsese’s last, would rank among the most harshly awe-inspiring farewells of the cinema.” — from Richard Brody‘s 12.24 New Yorker review of The Wolf of Wall Street. Note: The term is self-evident but for the uninitiated Brody should have used “late film” in quotes. It means a film made by an acknowledged auteur in his/her final stage of output (70-plus).
“Does The Wolf of Wall Street condemn or celebrate? Is it meant to provoke disgust or envy? These may be, in the present phase of American civilization, distinctions without a meaningful difference behind them. If you walk away feeling empty and demoralized, worn down by the tackiness and aggression of the spectacle you have just witnessed, perhaps you truly appreciate the film’s critical ambitions. If, on the other hand, you ride out of the theater on a surge of adrenaline, intoxicated by its visual delights and visceral thrills, it’s possible you missed the point. The reverse could also be true. To quote another one of Mr. Scorsese’s magnetic, monstrous heroes, Jake LaMotta, that’s entertainment.” — final paragraph from A.O. Scott‘s conflicted rave in the 12.25 N.Y. Times.
Thanks to Idiot Savant Online‘s John Lichman for a moderately funny, reasonably accurate tribute piece. I was terrified as I began reading it, dreading this or that form of libel or character assassination, but I began to relax when I finished the third paragraph. Whew.
No one is a more devout fan of Jules Dassin‘s Rififi than myself, but I’m always a tiny bit concerned when Criterion delivers a Bluray of a black-and-white classic. How grain-monky will it be? It’s standard policy, of course, for Criterion’s Bluray team to never “bump” anything up — they always deliver the film precisely as it looked when projected at a first-rate house on opening day. That worked out fine with their Sweet Smell of Success Bluray, but the Criterion dweebs are notoriously queer for grainstorms. And statements like “brightness and contrast levels appear to have been slightly toned down,” “there are absolutely no traces of problematic degraining corrections” and “compromising sharpening adjustments also have not been applied” (all of which appear in Dr. Svet Atanasov‘s Bluray.com review) scare the living shit out of me. I’m also concerned by his observation that “debris, cuts, scratches, flecks, and stains have been removed as best as possible.” A similar qualifier was used by the Criterion folks to describe their notoriously awful Bluray of Stagecoach. It sounds as if the Rififi Bluray might be sullied with a few scratches, flecks and stains.
