The end of an era...

...is upon us.

Brutal film.  Glad I got to see it, finally, as a result of my desire to watch the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) and write about them here.

Film 73

73.  "Raging Bull" (AFI Rank #4)

I call this the end of an era.  In my quest, this film represents that.  I broke the films down by distinct era.  This film is the last film in an era that I felt started with the film "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" and ended with this.  This era, which lasted 15 years put 30 films on the list, or two per year.  The era described as Hollywood's "Golden Era" - from 1937 to 1944 - placed 14 films on the list in 8 years, or slightly less than 2 per year.  See where I'm going with this?  Yes, I'm declaring it, because I've watched 73 of these films, and because I can, that the best era for filmmaking happened in the 1970s.  Yes, some all time greats (including THREE of the top 10 films on the list) happened in the "Golden Age," but what an amazing time the experimental era was.  Filmmakers explored their boundaries, and while the blockbuster summer film came from this era, even those films are gritty pieces.

Directed by Martin Scorsese, produced by (among others) Irwin Winkler, written by Paul Schrader, and shot in black and white (with the exception of a brief "Home Movies" segment), "Raging Bull" is nothing short of astonishing filmmaking.  This is the third and final film that I've watched by Scorsese on the list.  I'm not sure that I could argue for more films by Scorsese be added to the list, unless it was "Mean Streets," which I have not seen, but understand is a tremendous film.  However, I can argue that Scorsese needs inclusion in any discussion about greatest directors.  This film is testament to that, as it is Scorsese's great masterpiece, a film that could only be made by him, and a film ranked where it is because it might be the greatest film not named "Citizen Kane," "Casablanca," or "The Godfather."  Yes, it is that good, and I am kicking myself for not having watched it before this.  I still LEAN towards "Lawrence of Arabia," but this makes a compelling argument.

It also should be noted that this also marks the 5th (and final) appearance of Robert DeNiro on the list, every one of them in a lead role.  It is no small coincidence that 3 of DeNiro's films happen to be Scorsese's films, but Robert DeNiro, in his prime, was about as good as it gets as an actor.  Scorsese has an amazing habit of partnering with an actor for extended periods of time.  His current leading man is Leonardo DiCaprio, but damn, this dude made some transcendent films with DeNiro.

I've been heavy on plot in the last few posts, and I'm not going to even get into that on this one.  This is a film about Jake LaMotta, which takes place over a couple of decades.  Lots of bad stuff happens because LaMotta is a thug, lots of boxing happens, and lots of self-imposed misery is had.  That's the plot.

No, what I want to appreciate, is the artwork on display here.

Let's do visual first.  From the opening credits, shot in a hazy boxing ring in slow motion with a dancing hooded figure, we know that we're going to get into visual art.  A subtle, but necessary element to this is the occasional flash bulb going off in the "crowd" outside the ring.  The film then starts its bombastic approach to visual art by slamming us into Jake LaMotta backstage, obviously retired and overweight, preparing to go on with a comedy sketch.   The shots are brazenly stark, neither complimentary nor insulting.  It just shows us the simple reality of green rooms in entertainment venues.  We are then taken to the first of several boxing sequences, Jake LaMotta's first loss, a fight where he knocked out his opponent, but the final bell rang before the ref could count him out.  These fight sequences are where Scorsese really works his magic.  Elaborately choreographed, exquisitely photographed, brutally violent (watch out for the spray of blood that douses the judges ringside of one of the fights), and stylized, the fight sequences are artistry of the greatest magnitude.  I should mention that I especially enjoyed the fights that were shot in still photos, and nothing more.  Those are pure Scorsese, and you recognize his fingerprints immediately.  In researching the film, I discovered that the film was shot in black and white specifically because of the fight sequences.  Scorsese had attended a number of fights in preparation for the film, and was alternately disgusted and fascinated by the sheer volume of blood in the ring, and he felt that showing it would just be too much.  It is fascinating that such a simple reason (among a few others) could do so much for the rest of the film.

What pervades the film, for me, in its visual, though, is the passion that is present in every single frame.  It all feels like it was done on purpose, that each image was contemplated, then contemplated some more, then contemplated even more, then, eventually, finally, committed to film.  DeNiro had wanted to do this film for a long time, and he brought the idea to his friend, Scorsese, while Scorsese was laid up in the hospital, having nearly overdosed on cocaine, and was essentially dying.  DeNiro implored his friend to clean up and get back to work.  Believing it was likely his last project, Scorsese threw himself into the project, and gave all he could to the film, and it shows.  Passion, yeah that's it.

That passion wasn't reserved for the director.  Acting in this film is phenomenal.  DeNiro so completely invests in the role that we don't see DeNiro.  Even though we know that's who it is, we see Jake LaMotta, and nothing else.  His scenes as a young LaMotta, physically gifted, are so sexy, so animalistic, and so damned intriguing that we can't help but be drawn in.  Then, when these scenes were done filming, the entire film took a break so that DeNiro could go gain SIXTY pounds to play a much older LaMotta.  While the sexiness is gone in this bit, the animal is still there, as is the magnetism.  Of particular note is a scene, shot in a jail cell, where DeNiro slams his head, and eventually his fists, against a concrete wall.  That's commitment.  His portrayal of blind jealousy is always right, always pushing the story.  We get Jake's motives, even though they are paranoid delusions.  DeNiro won Best Actor at the Oscars for this role.  It was...well...it was deserved, to say the least.

Supporting players in this film are equally committed, and terrific.  Joe Pesci, as Jake's younger brother, Joey, shines particularly bright, and his scenes with Jake feel so conversational, so natural, that we see the roots of a partnership that reached its zenith in "Goodfellas."  Also stunning is Cathy Moriarty, who plays LaMotta's second wife, Vickie.  Never looking intimidated, despite this being her film debut, Moriarty is a joy to watch.  It was also great fun to see "Coach" from "Cheers" in a dramatic role, and Nicholas Colasanto is spot on.  As is Frank Vincent, playing his typical smooth, but inarticulate mobster.  Really.  Does Vincent ever say anything that doesn't feel like something's not quite right with the guy?

I'm not going to sugarcoat it.  I'd consider this film, now that I'VE finally seen it, essential viewing if one wants to know what great film is.  I've mentioned before that directors are essentially in charge of two things (I know that there's a lot more, but these are the two biggest):  acting performances/relationships/details and visual imagery.  Scorsese is rightly credited with being a master at visual imagery.  Watch this film, though, and watch how his actors interact.  Watch how he captures their performances.  Watch how deft a touch he has on the small moments, while he is capable of visual fireworks that no other director seems to capture.  This film is his "Mona Lisa," it's his masterpiece.  That he wanted it to be his legacy shows, that it wound up being one more step to a lasting legacy is a gift we all got.  We're luckier people, as film viewers, that he's still around.

A couple of other things:

1.  You can't help but see Terry Malloy and "On the Waterfront" in this.  The choice to lift the "coulda been a contender" speech and have DeNiro perform it was brilliant.  Homage, sure, but also vital to the theme.  You imagine LaMotta saw himself as Malloy, as it was always someone else who brought him down.
2.  Also present is "The Searchers," specifically in the way that time in Jake's personal life passes.  The fights all have dates, but several years pass in Jake's personal life with no visual clue except the addition of a child, or two, or something similar.  The homage to Scorsese's favorite film is clear as a bell.

Boxing films were the rage for a while after "Rocky" won Best Picture.  This is one of them, but I submit it's not a boxing film as much as it is a classical tragedy, with boxing being incidental to the story.  And I'm sticking to that.  That its most famous line, "You never got me down!" is not really about LaMotta's prowess in the ring, as much as it is about LaMotta's fear to be seen as weak is all the proof I need that larger forces are at work in this film.

Watch this film.  Watch it again, if you already have.  It's greatness.  Sheer greatness.

Ebert's "Great Movies" essay on this film is here.  Read this.  He nails it.