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Viciously satirical and rambunctious, The Wolf of Wall Street finds Martin Scorsese making his sharpest comedy yet. Working for the fifth time with Leonardo DiCaprio, Scorsese’s always managed to push DiCaprio to his limits as an actor and get surprisingly full performances out of him; this movie can only be described as a bacchanal of greed, sex and drugs.
Based on the true story of Jordan Belfort, Wolf of Wall Street drops us into the hedonistic world of insider stock trading. Starting as a wide-eyed youth with dreams of making big money, Belfort throws out any altruism that may have remained in his character the moment he meets his new boss, played by Matthew McConaughey. McConaughey’s role is basically that of the Devil offering up a Faustian bargain, the opens the portal to excesses of cocaine (amongst many other drugs), attaining wealth at all costs (the customers don’t matter), and sex (women are objects to be exploited and concurred in this world). He doesn’t have much screen time, but McConaughey makes a lasting impression on not only DiCaprio’s Belfort, but on the audience.
The story naturally revolves around the social climbing and status obsessions that drive these characters before the eventual fall, brought about by their own hubris, or lack thereof. What we sit and become witness to is a series of deplorable acts. These begin small, by convincing millionaires to buy penny stocks – a quick way to amass a fortune if you figure out how to work the system. This quickly escalates into dropping his nice girl wife for the sexy model (Margot Robbie, as a woman who uses her sexuality as a power play), an insatiable need for any and all drugs, and various kinds of prostitutes.
If one is to believe the auteur theory, and I think it only works on a case-by-case basis, then the term papers on Scorsese practically write themselves. GoodFellas and The Wolf of Wall Street share many similarities, and a college essay detailing how they compare and contrast is just ripe for the picking for a film studies major. I think Scorsese firmly falls into the area of auteurism, as each of his films bare a certain set of trademarks. One of these trademarks is the lack of a typical score and a frantic editing pace that feels like rock and roll rhythms. Wall Street runs at a fever pitch of punk rock nihilism and speed-fueled energy. The first five minutes see Scorsese film a scene in which DiCaprio blows coke up a hooker’s ass. It’s that kind of crazy, strange trip.
No one can maintain a sense of relentless energy and momentum like Scorsese does, and at nearly three hours in length that’s no mean feat. The story and cast are sprawling, and Scorsese makes it all come together in sequences which are heavy on dialog and explaining how these nasty deeds were committed or the foul-mouthed poetry of DiCaprio’s narration. Scorsese finds a way to match the verbal contortions of Terence Winter’s script with his obscene images. And this is why I worship at the feet of Scorsese.
But let’s go back to that cast for a moment – I’ve already mentioned McConaughey, Robbie and DiCaprio. Yet I have not said much about DiCaprio’s work. I think that he’s reached a new level of his talents here. After years of picking brooding, serious roles like Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby or J. Edgar Hoover in J. Edgar, it’s refreshing to see him loosen up and let it rip. I think beneath the serious actor, charismatic leading man, and good looking movie star, beats the heart of a comedic actor. I was torn between wanting DiCaprio to finally win that elusive Oscar this year or wanting to see McConaughey awarded for his career resurgence and string of great performances. DiCaprio is just that good here. If the quaaludes scene isn’t enough to win it for him, I don’t know what else possibly could.
To continue on with the GoodFellas analogy, Jonah Hill would be the Joe Pesci role here. Hill’s sidekick role here is pure sleaze, his buckteeth and faux-yuppie clothing providing an outward appearance for the WASP-y ambitions that he so clearly has. To think that Hill has gone from Superbad to deranged character portrait he does here is pretty astounding to think about. These two partners-in-crime are like a coked-up variation of Laurel & Hardy, or something similar.
But all of this debauchery just makes the satire cut that much deeper. A scene where Belfort begins by saying he’s stepping down before doubling back and roaring like a mad lion that he’s not going anywhere plays out the corrupting promise of greed. It takes the mantra “Greed is good” to its logical conclusion: at some point in time, you begin to buy the very bullshit you’ve sold to get there. I felt no sympathy for these people, and none of the actors asked for us to like them, and, obviously, neither does Scorsese. The ending cuts even deeper as a rapt audience sits at full attention waiting for Belfort to impart his wisdom upon them, to unlock the secrets of wealth and conspicuous consumption. Welcome to America, now sell me this pen.
