Send in the f*ing clowns
His untamable, hysterically soul-piercing laugh. His artistic, mellow dance. All engraved in my mind after leaving Joker.
What Phoenix does is ineffable. A deprived man in a boiling pot, pushed to the verge of mental and physical disruption, ultimately embracing what has always been lurking inside his outer shell. A corruptive arc bound to ensue in the rather onesided, yet gorgeously shot world, in which cruelty appears to be ruling every alley, corner and street…
You got a good friend here. You don’t know how good a friend you got.
The Irishman breaks thresholds of time, scope, matter, and whatever you can possibly think of. But, above all the anomalies, Scorsese calls forth the hidden ability in us to actually sit through his jumbo - jet of a film that harkens back to his deepest desire to someday be a mob boss himself. One day.
I heard you paint houses.
Simply put, The Irishman is…