<i>The Wolf Of Wall Street</i> Has Almost As Much Cocaine In It As Martin Scorsese Circa 1978: A Review

Not Available Lead
Complex Original

Image via Complex Original

Not Available Lead

Sometime in 2011, Martin Scorsese picked up his telephone and began to dial the number of his old flame. His heart pounded in his chest and he nervously hung up. “You know the rule, Martin. Wait three years.” Instead, he took out his diary and wrote, “M.S. + L.D. 4 EVER,” in the middle of a little heart. Eventually, however, that telephone call would be made and Scorsese and Leo would reunite for another film. Finally, on Christmas, while all the Christians were forced to spend time with their awful families, the jewish people America came out of the woodwork, ate a bunch of chinese food, and saw The Wolf of Wall Street.

The film tells the true story of the rise and fall of real life stockbroker legend, Jordan Belfort, during his reign in the 1990s. This guy sold bullshit penny stocks in bulk to the richest 1%, and made a shit-ton of money doing it. It’s a movie full of hard drugs, fast cars, loose women, and a dickload of penicillin.

Leo lights shit up, as per usual. He starts the film by talking straight to the camera a la Ferris Bueller, and tells the audience how awesome he his life is. He pretty much just makes awesome Coach Carter speeches to his employees and beats up pussy like Jake LaMotta. And oh yeah, and he drinks mimosas without looking like a total puss. Moreover, the dancing was incendiary. You’ve probably already seen the gif, but it doesn’t compare to the real thing. He just looks like a total crazy person and it’s magnificent. Hot. Fire.

The movie had a pretty tight ensemble cast including some outstanding acting from Walking Dead star John Bernthal, P.J. Byrne, and Rob Reiner, as well as some shitheads like Jon Favreau, who was in the film for absolutely no reason at all. Seriously, get the fuck out of my review, Favreau, nobody likes you.

Ethan Suplee of My Name Is Earl and Kevin Smith movie fame was nearly in the film from start to finish despite the fact that he didn’t speak a single word. I assume that he was originally scripted for some lines that were later cut. Scorsese was like, “Hey good job, champ!” and then turned to his assistant and whispered, “We’re cutting all of that.”

The fact that Jonah could make likeable a manipulative, buck-toothed troll, who’s eccentricities include marrying his own cousin, swallowing a live goldfish, and whipping his dick out in public, is nothing short of brilliant.

Matthew McConaughey somehow resisted the temptation to take his shirt off for five minutes a found a small role among the others. He essentially just rambles incoherently like an asshole in what is perhaps one of the best scenes of the film.

Aussie babe, Margot Robbie, is naked in almost every scene she’s in, even though, get this, she told Scorsese straight up that she didn’t do nudity and said she’d never do it. I guess with Marty, ‘no’ means ‘yes’?

But the finest performance undoubtbly the incomparable Jonah Hill. Yeah, I said it. Jonah’s rendering of Donnie Azoff, the fictional equivalent of Danny Porush, is amazing. Frankly, it made his role in Moneyball look like a pile of dogshit. The fact that he could make likeable a manipulative, buck-toothed troll, who’s eccentricities include marrying his own cousin, swallowing a live goldfish, and whipping his dick out in public, is nothing short of brilliant. It’s strange—it seems like just yesterday that a curly haired, boyish Jonah was playing a background character in Grandma’s Boy, sucking on a tit like a baby. Now, seven years later, he’s—we’ll let’s face it—still sucking on titties, but they are Martin Scorsese film titties, so it’s different. They’re distinguished, regal titties. Oscar nom forthcoming.

Many people say that powerful, stand-alone scenes are what make a great movie—and The Wolf of Wall Street has no shortage. The quick montage of short scenes that served as the exposition was abruptly stopped with one of the most profound moments. Belfort’s inner circle meets in the company boardroom to discuss, in length, the very serious logistics of hiring a midget to throw at a Velcro target during an office party, and whether or not he would be willing to perform sexual acts in front of the employees.

Another great scene comes when a Quaalude-debilitated Belfort takes cocaine to kick himself back into action—an exploit paralleled by the image of Pop-eye the Sailor Man eating spinach to give himself strength on the nearby television.

Scorsese’s direction is, as expected, phenomenal. He uses the colorful palette of the early 90’s to highlight the eccentricities of Belfort and his dickhead, millionaire, private-jet-orgy-having, colleagues and pals. Oh and did I mention there’s a ton of blow all the time everywhere? He was probably caught in an endless flashback of his own glory days in the late 1970’s when he was living off the success of Mean Streets and Taxi Driver and making snow angels in his piles of cocaine. Now that’s a movie I’d like to see. Who should star in it, you ask? Leo, of course.

Four Pins Rating: 9.5/10 Robert Deniro Faces Cut Out Of Marty’s Photo Album.

Matt Rimer is a writer living in Boston. Follow him on Twitter here.

Latest in Style