Patrick Pryor’s review published on Letterboxd:
The son of two NYC Garment District workers drops the most scathing indictment of capitalism in a decade of films mining class warfare for material. Professional cine so-and-sos deriding Scorsese as some bro reveling in Wolf's debauchery back in 2013 must not have foreseen the grotesque hellscape scorching the back half of the decade where temporarily embarrassed wannabe millionaires defend their scumbucket 1% exploiters. 'Cause maybe if a working stiff grinds 'til he almost drops and makes all the right moves and magically rolls a Yahtzee in life, he can become a millionaire and call the shots, too. Everyone who can't succeed in this country is just lazy and deserves to work at McDonald's, right?
Jordan Belfort and his nouveau rich thugs are despicable rotten husks who see anyone else as exploitable less-than-human walking dollar signs. The whole movie acts as a parade of large adult son idiocy where a bunch of obscenely wealthy crooks convince themselves, and those gullible enough to drink the profit poison, they earned their status through smarts and hard work. These gluttonous money mad ghouls are in charge of the world? Wall Street broke and derailed millions of lives, but these chuckleheads didn't even get a slap on the wrist? We paid taxes to bail them out? And people still line up to hear Jordan Belfort give Toastmasters classes about being assertive and really wanting it and pulling up those bootstraps. THEY CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT.
Congrats, Marty, for making a movie so disturbing and ahead of its time, I had to laugh to keep from screaming.