As perfect as it was when I saw it for the first time at 18 and it opened my horizons on what movies could be. Not sure it's Scorsese's best, but in an age of incels and splatter-happy Poisson-fed panic killings, it feels all too prescient. Putting a rail-thin arm to the flame, seeing how long you can stand it. Bickle is dead and he did nothing, any heroics completely imagined after bringing a date to a porno.
First off, the title is I Heard You Paint Houses. The god Scorsese putting in that title card against Netflix's whim rips.
There's a bit in here that sums up the first two acts-- Frank is a guy who does what's asked of him, because that's what he is supposed to do. There's no joy or really any sense of feeling behind it. He's got that old man scowl (one bit of the deaging is that it's an old De…
Any minor quibbles I had with this on first watch are completely gone - every bread crumb laid here is immediately picked up and eaten until you fully grasp what is happening, and then the feast on the coffee table all blows up.
Links so well together and embodies so much on a visceral level that I can't shake it, obviously there's a ton to be mined on the class struggle but what sticks with me is the flickering light, a bug in the network speaking to a select few.