Review of The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) by Tiberio S — 13 May 2017

I love the boldness and brashness, the glorification sucking you in further and far more temptingly than GoodFellas, the big mind trick that this box of movie magic provides. It's proof that Scorsese is at the top of his game, on a continuous journey of topping himself each time he does this. The Wolf is an absolutely perfect example of a movie that is totally conscious of its viewer juxtaposed to projection - he is offering an opportunity for the victims to understand what they're victim to, and they can be part of the profiteering if they'd like. You're both empathetic of the drive but hurt by the consequences. It speaks to the heart of a modern world that feels threatened by Wall Street. They are facing us, perpetrators vs victims, and we're left with our thumbs hanging, trying to decide how to feel about all of it. Maybe it just is and we give up on judging it, or maybe serious policy is made as a result, but either way the audience is on a trip. This is Leo's best work; should've been the Oscar grabber.

It's a challenging film to watch because it requires the audience to responsibly play along - the audience has a role to play, not an easy thing for the common viewer to take on. We know we are indulging in wicked things, but we shouldn't try to contain ourselves or hold in our laughter. We should allow ourselves to be these people, like we do in GoodFellas. This appeals more to our desires than GoodFellas does; it's easier to get behind a man who wants all this power and isn't killing anyone to have it. It's easier to get behind an orgy of naked bodies than it is a mass of murdered corpses. We all want to be Jordan Belfort.

DiCaprio and company are all in key, firing on all cylinders, adrenaline fueled in high octane performances that get the most out of each player. Belfort screams on the microphone at the beach house party or in the office, he's all out there. The Quaalude scene is magnificent, capturing sparkles of spilling alcohol, a swarm of pills tantalizingly spilling across the pool table as Belfort explains the appeal of this drug, Jonah Hill's Donnie spilling into his friends in extremely slow motion... then suddenly we're looking at a Steve Madden commercial, girls with big heads (not in vain, this will come back). At this point we meet Margot Robbie's Naomi, the Duchess of Bay Ridge - "I would let that girl give me fucking aids." Jordan is all over it, not caring about the boyfriend she showed up with, or that he too is married. She's the keeper, anyone will do anything for her, and he's going all out for her. He's already got it all, what's not to want? Donnie, higher than fuck itself, has noticed how hot she is from above, coming downstairs to masturbate in front of the party, much to his wife's (cousin) distaste.

I love the relationships, how Donnie finds Jordan, Jordan and his father Max (Rob Reiner), Donnie and the tough guy who lives with his mom Brad, a pair so distasteful of each other that it becomes the first serious crack in the operation legally. Donnie starts off an impressively aggressive guy for someone living in the lower depths, upfront asking Jordan to hook him up with his lifestyle. Jordan takes to him, and the two are like inseparable brothers the rest of the way. Max is an oddball, having conversations with his son about bush vs shaved (he likes the bush), screaming at the telephone before picking it up in an almost English accent. Reiner brings terrific charisma to the screen that instantaneously spells out the character without him having to earn it. The diversity of personalities just has me smiling - Chester, Rugrat, Sea Otter, Toby. These guys are fun, we wish we were part of the gang - Terence Winter is wise to include nicknames. Look at the way Rugrat smiles when he learns a potential sale recently lost a loved one - these guys are shameless.

To this day I am mystified by the fact that somehow three hours goes by. I've sat through 90 minute films which feel longer. That tells us something about how relentlessly high the energy is from first frame to last, a terrific compliment to what may be Thelma Schoonmaker's crowning achievement. Scorsese provides a lot of intriguing, not at all basic coverage - what must it look like for her to receive all that film? And how does she contain it all with the sensibility that she does to tell the story as it is? It's one of those things that seems impossible, requiring artists all working synchronistically on a frequency generating moment to moment creative genius at the highest level. Scorsese is aware of the momentum at every beat, his camera shows it, Rodrigo Pietro spectacularly gliding across the office with the odd choice of song, "Hey Leroy, Your Mama's Calling You" from Jimmy Castor. Right before this, "I want you to deal with your problems by becoming rich," he declares in an inspiring monologue after Steve Madden fails to gain their interest. "You be telephone fucking terrorists!".

The antics are another eye opener - tossing midgets at a bullseye, naked parade, orgies on a plane, or in the office, or in his penthouse, shaving a woman's head for money, firing an employee for washing his fish bowl and eating his goldfish. We enjoy the fun and feel Kyle Chandler's FBI are being dicks, but at the same time we can't help but feel justified in wanting to see him nail Belfort's operation. At the end of the day, Belfort is really giving us the finger, as directly stated in a shot when he's screwing over a family man on the phone, who's cleverly framed as the audience itself. Jordan's new co-workers stand around him in awe of how he screws people into buying stocks that will fail on them, directly facing us as the phone is in the immediate foreground, playing the role of us; we are on that phone. Jordan treats the conversation like he's fucking someone from behind, his sale being the orgasm, celebrating with a middle-finger hang up. This ultimate blue-chip Kodak sale is intercut with a training montage as a room of 'senior vice-presidents' learn their phone script and how to equally screw buyers. The office grows from a garage to Wall Street in a matter of a few cuts.

Terence Winter is all over this, and one of the most deceptively brilliant scenes is between Agent Denham and Belfort on his yacht. Belfort refused to listen to his private investigator not to fuck with Denham, but his young cocky ego couldn't let the idea go that he was the powerful one here, and so he invites him to his yacht to see if he can maneuver him. Denham plays into his hand, masterfully performed by Chandler, manipulating Belfort to believe that perhaps he has regrets about his career choice, maybe would've preferred going into stock brokerage like Belfort. It's at this point Belfort gets into some nonsense about how he wants to help people like Denham out, which Denham reads as a bribe. He takes this in for a moment, wanting to be careful, nodding to his cohort. But he plays it too obvious when he asks Jordan to repeat himself, the moment passed. However, their rivalry is established, they know each other now, hero and villain, and it's only a matter of time before they meet again in less pleasant circumstances.

Belfort's reaction to the Lemmons requires all the tools in an actors kit, as far as what Eddie Redmayne had to pull out for Stephen Hawking's ALS. It's just about two hours into the film and we get the feeling that something is about to happen, a noticeable absence of music as Jordan drives to a payphone to talk to his P.I. Now Belfort's bribe to Denham is coming back to haunt him, he's finding out that the agent is all over him with bugs and taps. Watch how the camera, attached to DiCaprio, follows the drooling drug victim to the floor as we viscerally experience this kick-in. What follows is a performer falling into total physical and emotional embodiment, the result of incredible confidence and preparation as he crawls down the stairs to his car with something like a cerebral palsy equivalent. And then he tumbles down brick stairs - the tumbling point of view shows a long staircase, the result shows a short fall - Scorsese is at the top of his game, and has more tricks like this coming. Some audiences may be incapable of interpreting such ideas as Belfort's perspective showing him and his car getting home in one piece, weighed against another perspective showing they most certainly did not. Belfort struggles to speak, fighting to get Donnie off the phone. The only soundtrack at this point is Pop-Eye on the TV nearby, an image of spinach pumping him up inspiring Jordan to take coke and save Donnie, who is now choking. Jordan gets by, Brad decides not to rat, but he is now heavily advised to give some things up, because all eyes are officially on him. Scorsese gave us nearly two straight hours of music-filled adrenaline, then changed the pacing and momentum for this sequence, while not being any less entertaining. It's a remarkable cinematic achievement. The film continues this way, free of music, as Jordan tries to say goodbye to Stratton Oakmont, a tear-filled emotional scene (for them) as the kool-aid drinkers mourn his leaving the company. And then it all changes, he decides he can't let go. Denham learns the news, and the party starts again, on a yacht with "Hey-Ho" playing. Now it's only a matter of time, but a rush of new adrenaline surges forth.

And then comes God, Scorsese's favorite character, almost a deus-ex-machina when they rush across the sea on his yacht, against the captain's recommendation for fear of storm conditions. All hell breaks loose in another wildly shot trip through twenty foot waves, an impossible circumstance with jet-skis and a helicopter flying off, more than just the broken dishes they anticipated. All Belfort can think is that he doesn't want to die sober, tasking Donnie to get the Quaaludes. They smash into the ultimate wave, cutting into the unexpected sound of "Gloria" as they are saved from their capsized ship. Randomly, a plane blows up killing three people as everyone dances, nobody notices and it passes by as a near dream element. Jordan Belfort feels he's ready to change his life, falling into the financial advice business with infomercials. Denham interrupts one of these shoots, making for a far more interesting way of seeing an arrest than conventional. Denham offers some legal advice, "shut the fuck up.".

At the end of the film we see a mirror, we are Jordan's kool-aid drinking audience, sitting across seeing ourselves. We're captivated, we can't deny we want to know his secrets, and he's spilling them out in an information session. The idea of the telephone POV recurs in the most literal form. It's one of the most brilliant endings I've ever taken part in.