Zack Handlen’s review published on Letterboxd:
Hilarious and weird and angry and deeply fucked up. One of the most delicate attempts at untrustworthy narrator I've seen, and all the more impressive when you consider it in the context of the movie's crazed excess. Drags a little in the third act, but the drag is like a morning-after hangover--and the final scenes pull the whole thing together beautifully. (I wasn't prepared for the violence in the final scenes, and appreciated how Scorsese doesn't dwell on them--Jordan's telling _his_ story, and for the most part he keeps everything in control, but every so often the mask slips. The effect is powerful; it's makes the audience complicit in the ugliness, because we were willing to accept everything else.) I can't imagine viewing this as a celebration of Belfort's criminality, but then, as enjoyable as the movie is to watch, I can't imagine having any fun at all these parties. Just a lot of morons being morons, only louder.