The Wolf of Wall Street

To be honest, I was somehow speechless after I saw this movie. This film is a proper Scorsese, but on the other hand, it’s not something that I would be happy to remember. You see, the movie is a cruel reflection of the kind of society created by capitalism. That is of the kind of world we live in. And believe me, it’s not a pleasant sight. And that’s despite the fact that there’s plenty of fun and the acting performances are flawless. Having said that, I never want to see The Wolf of Wall Street again. Seeing naked reality is sometimes painful and I’m not able to accept such reality again. And the worst part is that it’s all based on real events. Nevertheless, there is one thing I have to admit. The guy the story was based on was a hell of a businessman. But that was probably the only thing he had going for him. (24/01/2014)

What surprised me, and not in a very good way, is that Scorece’s position towards the protagonist is neutral, as if he was saying that ripping people off, doing drugs and shagging whores is kind of fine. That's a pretty big problem for me, as a die-hard idealist. So far, none of Scorsese's films have lacked some kind of catharsis at the end, unfortunately I didn't get it here. I acknowledge the fantastic filmmaking, which on more than one occasion managed to elicit a relieved laugh from me, but otherwise I'd always prefer the stupid postmen who can only afford penny stocks over cunts like Jordan Belfort and his wolf pack. This farce is actually very far from a complex fresco telling something about something. (16/01/2014)

Fear and loathing in New York. Good old Scorsese remains true to himself, yet he’s rejuvenated through over-the-top decadent stylization, speech and, indeed, the content of individual scenes. It begins as a cynically satirical and amoral demystification of the American capitalist dream, not unlike There Will Be Blood. It continues as a pure junkie comedy on par with Trainspotting. And it ends with a variation on Catch Me If You Can. And as incompatible as these individual threads may seem, Scorsese's (and, in no small part, DiCaprio's) greatest achievement is that it all feels like one cohesive whole. This is also due to the fact that there isn’t a moment to exhale for three hours; at least for the duration of projection. After that, you have to be honest that even though there isn't a single boring or bad scene in it, some could stand being edited out. It also depends on whether you think that Scorsese is glorifying Belfort or that he is satirically doing the exact opposite. But damn it, it's such outrageous fun, with something for everyone; from freakin’ self reflection through its frickin’ cinephilic form to fuckin’ gut-busting scenes. (27/12/2013)

I guess I don't like movies where Leo is very rich and indulgent. The fact is that except for a few jokes in the style of The Hangover, it all seemed to me like an opulent cocaine carnival, hiding quite a relevant (and fortunately very subdued) parable about the pernicious appeal of selling pens and a glaring paradox of sweaty balls in the subway, circumscribed elegantly in the last minutes. I appreciate that Scorsese accepts the player's perspective (and not the critique of the system) and does not push the viewer to disgust - Belfort is, of course, a repulsively attractive mediator of the world of speculation. However, the metaphors of the brokerage community as a prehistoric tribe / sect are unnecessarily obvious (although the extravaganza is nice to look at). Also remarkable is the obvious "immorality" of the film, which actually calmly claims that a similar lifestyle is cool in a way - and Scorsese is, of course, right. If he wasn't, the Wolf would have nothing to eat. The best thing about the film in this regard is about 5 minutes, which the brokerage shaman McConaughey hums to a hypnotic rhythm. I have nothing to criticize it for at its core - it plays back the worn out notes confidently and without mistakes, it just didn't speak to me at all with its frenetic cadence. It’s the similar problem of "numbness of sarcasm" that I had with Gavras' more engaged film Capital. At least The Wolf of Wall Street brazenly says, with a smirk, what we all know about the speculative nature of capitalism, admittedly unreliably and without unnecessary rhetorical phrases. And it doesn't burden you with unnecessarily complicated details at all. Why would it, when another reduction is waiting around the corner? But the film still takes 3 hours, in which I did not find enough stimuli. Of course, except for the cocaine, prostitutes, and those damn deceleration pills... (11/01/2014)

Such a sophisticated ode to money, sex, drugs, and immense debauchery that I almost forgot that, in reality, such people seem overdue for a good slap in the face. Yet even if I had spent the entire three hours merely studying the movements of the wolf king Leonardo DiCaprio in fascination, it would still have been worth it. Sharp monologues, the casting of prostitutes, or cerebral palsy may be the high points, but all throughout DiCaprio delivers a performance at the edge of human capabilities, which might appear casual and relaxed, but must have required a level of effort greater than ever before. Still, it is a shame that Scorsese expands the scope to an unnecessarily broad extent. Even my love for overdramatic stories that don't know when to stop being told could not prevent me from being even slightly bored by the last hour running a bit freely. Martin Scorsese and Leo yet again know how to do it and take unbelievable delight in their talent. And yet they miss absolute center, whether they make a buck or not, by a field. (23/01/2014)