The Irishman - a Review.

 Disgraceful LugubrusVanThi reflects on

“The Irishman” (Marty's latest before the next).

The setting: Noo York, the fifties. A juke-box plays something by Frankie Valli. You don't make music like that anymore.

Snake looking Joe Pesci addresses De Niro (for it is he): “Come 'ere son, looks like you're the man...” (pregnant pause)

De Niro, without moving a facial muscle: “Huh.”

Joe Pesci tilts his shaded glasses to look him in the eye: “You may want to show it to me.”

Silence.

De Niro, without moving a facial muscle: “Show it...”

Snake looking Joe Pesci: “Yes.”

De Niro stuffs his fists inside his pockets in order to justify his wages. Looks slightly thoughtful, thinks about lighting up but remembers this is the twenty-first century De Niro. Waits.

Joe Pesci: “To me.”

A penguin clothed waiter just about slips in the background, regains his balance.

Joe Pesci: “I have this friend, see … he's got this problem...”

De Niro goes and whacks your man.

Joe Pesci: “Good work. Here, have some Parma ham. Just like your mama served it every Sunday with risotto, cannelloni, Ginebra Bellucci, panettone, antipasti, coffee and ch-i-anti.”

De Niro: “I'm Irish.”

Joe Pesci's dame lights up. De Niro's dame lights up. They talk shop (necklaces, freezers, pastel throws, Shandy vs. Prosecco, thirty-inch TVs, thieving pantry girls that need to be taught a lesson).

Enters doughy Jesse Plemons, looking a bit bemused: “Eh, Da, here comes Al Pacino”

Al Pacino, shouting: “Cocksuckers! Don't they know who I am?? I am Jimmy fuckin' Hoffa that's who!!”

Black guy appears: "Oops, sorry, wrong film!" Exits.

In the background, the Four Tops are singing about love. A dove cries. Nice shot of a classic car cruising by (the carburetor has been changed).

Snake looking sexgod Harvey Keitel beckons De Niro over: “'ere, Rodney, our friend here told me about you...”

De Niro, without moving a facial muscle: dramatic pause.

Sexgod Harvey Keitel lights a cigarette, doesn't bother taking his shades off. “I hear you paint houses...”

De Niro: “and I do my own carpentry.”

Joe Pesci whispers something in Harvey's ear. Harvey wipes his ear with a pale lavender silk handkerchief. “There is this friend of ours, yes...?”

De Niro waits.

Harvey lights up a second cigarette, half-lifts his dry Martini. “You may want to pay him a visit...”

De Niro goes and whacks your man.

Joe Pesci: “That was well sound that our kid, the big man was highly impressed; 'ere, have some Gorgonzola cheese, like the one yo granny cooked for Holy Communion, Gawd bless 'er cotton socks.” (Crosses himself and hopes to die.)

They go on a trip.

Al Pacino, shouting: “Cocksuckers! All I am is a Union man! A Union man! The motherfuckers 'better not mess with me: I am Jimmy fuckin' Hoffa and don't you forget it!”

Joe Pesci's dame asks if they are there yet – but the fillum is only thirty minutes gone. She lights one up furiously.

Al Pacino, shouting: “Attica! Attica! I want some motherfuckin' respect, me! What do they think this is? A comedy??”

Dino "Sweet Jugs" Pantolino: "I resent your reductionist rhetorical barbs, they do not encompass the vibrant Italian-American experience.”

“And they are offensive."

Doughy Jesse Plemons, looking a bit bemused: “'Ere, Pa, should I go for a drive...?”

Joe Pesci: “You do that son, you do that and while you're at it, ask your man why he hasn't put on the 'Stones yet!”

Marty fires your man in charge of the soundtrack.

De Niro repairs home for a change. Happens upon his family, hears about his daughter. Charges -as much as De Niro can charge- to the greengrocer: “What's that I hear? 'Been shoving my daughter huh? Been shoving her? I don't see anyone else here who is shoving my daughter, you're the only one - Take that motherfucker!” Whacks your man accordingly.

De Niro's daughter, now twenty years older, glares at him in silent reproach.

Nice shot of a Chevrolet or a Pontiac (one or the other – maybe a General Motor?). Birds take off from slowly balding trees and land on water, time passes, JFK gets elected, your bases are belong to us. De Niro and Pacino are in their PJs and preparing for bed before an important meeting.

Al Pacino, à propos of nothing: “I like steak.”

De Niro: “I like steak too.”

Al Pacino: “You see, Bobby -Wait a second, what's your name again in this one?”

De Niro: “I am the Irishman.”

Al Pacino: “Ah that's right – You see Bobby, a good steak is like a fine pussy with a good cigar, you want to enjoy it like Nature intended you to.”

De Niro: “You want me to go and whack a butcher?”

Al Pacino: “No need, no need my friend, I'm Jimmy Hoffa, I can do whatever I want! See, I can just pick this phone and order room service! I'm Jimmy Hoffa!”

De Niro: “Now then, now then Jim, you can't possibly”

Al Pacino: “This is the greatest country in the world!”

De Niro: “Jimmy, Jimmy, I'm trying to tell you something here, the hospitality industry trade union, you don't want to”

Al Pacino: “Watch me! All I have to do is pick up this phone and... Allo? Allo? Wake up motherfucker and pick up the fuckin' -That's better, now listen you dopey Spango motherfucker: Bring up two medium rare well cooked steaks with gravy on the side, one helping of kettle chips (cheese and onion or failing that, salt 'n vinegar) and a turnip! Pronto!!”

Hangs up, checks himself, picks up again: “I forgot: cocksuckers!”

Joe Pesci clasps his hands: “Mamma mia. That does it.”

Goes and talks behind his bejewelled hand to mysterious Harvey Keitel at a Tony Bennet show. Forty-something Sinatra is shagging a teenage Mia Farrow on a sofa behind.

Mysterious Harvey Keitel looks at De Niro. De Niro looks at Harvey. Joe Pesci looks at them in succession. Thoughtfully fingers he a ten-carat diamond on his pinky – it ain't going to end well...

Cut to the lake (where birds land). Fast-forward to the retirement home. Flash-back to the joint. Martha and the Vandelas are working the crowd. It's a tough gig, what with the pompadoured punters pigging on steaks and cigars.

De Niro's daughter: “If a falling tree chooses not to make any noise when falling inside the urban jungle, will the heavyweight stalwart hard-hitters take notice?”

De Niro attempts a pained expression. Gives up after two seconds. He misses the goold old times when he just lit up to fill screen-time.

Jesse Plemons stumbles in, scopes around, looks slightly stupefied.

Al Pacino, shouting: “Motherfuckers! Think that I'm scared? I've got fiiiles on you cocksuckers, files! All the way to Philly and back!”

Joe Pesci: “Hold it for a second Danny “Jowls” Carbonato and “Big Pants” Joe Scagliatti, our friends in Florida are getting worried...”

De Niro: whack.

Ray Liotta: “All my life, I've wanted to be a gangster.”

Joe Pesci's wife sighs exasperatedly and lights one up. Compares gearboxes.

Iggy: “Gimme danger...”

Your woman: patience of a saint, dinner always on time, weekly visits to confession, and you could always leave your front door open.

The Queens of the Stone Age: “I wanna make it witchoo”

De Niro: “Huh”. No facial muscle has been mistreated during the shooting of this film.

Mysterious Harvey Keitel: “You will go on a journey, you will meet a dark handsome man, you will hand over the keys to the truck...”

Lorraine Bracco: “What time's my scene?” I miss Lorraine Bracco.

JFK: “Ask not you what you can for your country...”

Nelson Muntz: “Ha ha!”

Thoughts from above hit the people down below.

De Niro: “Shhhoot. Toxic masculinity sure has a lot to answer for, dead white males and all, sister. Still eh, here's my message to you, you can stuff any apology from me up your”

Jimmy Hoffa: sleeps with the fishes.

The End.

The Guardian: “a masterpiece. Scorsese's towering achievement.”