The Wolf of Wall Street

Early in Martin Scorsese’s classic GoodFellas, narrator Henry Hill describes how he always wanted to be a gangster. And though the film doesn’t shy away from the brutality of the mob, it also shows why such a lifestyle would be so tempting. Money, women, expensive things, (almost) consequence-free hedonism. When the dirtier details aren’t on the screen, it sometime looks like a glamorous life.

The Wolf of Wall Street is similar to GoodFellas in a lot of ways, and might be Scorsese’s best film since. It, too, is a stylish, fierily energized guided tour of another world of temptation and indulgence: the stock trade. But while this world might not be as frowned upon by society, the depravity depicted reaches much more extreme levels. It offers the viewer a window to look in on a lifestyle they might dream of being a part of, but it’s so raw and unflinching that they'll be thankful they're not.

The "wolf" of the title is real-life stockbroker Jordan Belfort, played by Scorsese’s frequent collaborator Leonardo DiCaprio (the real Belfort cameos). After striking it rich selling penny stock, Belfort founded the firm Stratton Oakmont, which made many millions in the stock market through dubious, sometimes blatantly illegal means in the 1990s. He and his partners also developed a taste for wild extravagance until the Feds shut them down.

Like the protagonists in GoodFellas and Scorsese’s Las Vegas drama Casino, DiCaprio almost nostalgically narrates this tale. Also like those movies, the narrative encompasses the broad overview of the dates it took place, but also makes time for the little anecdotes and describing the particulars of things (both stock fraud and Belfort and company’s bad habits), all scored to an almost unnaturally perfect soundtrack (an eclectic mix with snippets of classic rock, blues, and even hip hop). Every scene has boundless energy and displays adept filmmaking techniques, some sequences almost like little vignettes that are memorable masterworks by themselves. I won’t describe any and ruin the surprise (and a lot of it has to be seen to be believed, anyway), but I’ll just say they involve much illegal activity, sex, and drugs. Lots and lots of sex and drugs. Not only is it easy to see why the original cut was rated NC-17, but it’s hard to imagine what more could have been in it.

And it’s funny. Hilarious, actually. That’s no surprise, as Scorsese frequently underscores more intense moments in his films with black humor. But here, the wanton depravity is not only appalling, but exhausting. It never ceases to shock with every new excess, but seeing it over and over again is a little draining. So to keep things sailing smoothly, the tone is most often darkly comic to curb our shock and disgust (or at least soften the blow), and said vignette-like sequences aren’t only great pieces of filmmaking, but elaborate setups for humor. It works, as the movie is as laugh-a-minute as any straight-up comedy, and might even leave you feeling dirtier than any gross-out or politically incorrect comedic picture.

DiCaprio shows he’s got great comic timing and can make us laugh. But he never lets us lose sight of the fact that his character’s an awful human being (Ray Liotta’s Henry Hill looks like a choir boy by comparison). As funny as he is on screen, he exudes a serious and real aura of a man whose behavior and increasingly intense addictions—to money, drugs, women, even excess itself—cause him to become more and more unhinged. To call him an animal would be trite, and also a gross understatement; he’s more like a demon.

This is DiCaprio’s movie, no doubt, but the rest of the Stratton Oakmont players also expertly balance being funny while still playing absolutely contemptible scumbags. Jonah Hill does it most often, and to the greatest extent. But he only stands out because he’s given a bigger part, and the lesser known cast members are just as good. So are the less immoral characters, like Margot Robbie as Belfort’s gorgeous bride who seems like a trophy wife but later proves to be a real person with human limits, or a very funny Rob Reiner as his hotheaded father who advises him but never explicitly disapproves of his doings. I say “less immoral” because even they are compromised to a degree just by being in this world. They’re not voices of moral reason, but notches to measure how low Belfort goes.

Come to think of it, there really isn’t a moral center to the picture at all (the closest thing is Kyle Chandler’s FBI agent, but his straight-laced demeanor doesn’t even come close to countering the various vices we see). We also don’t see the people who Stratton Oakmont swindled out of their money. The film doesn’t need either of these to condemn greed and excess, though. The sheer obscenity (a description DiCaprio actually uses in the picture) of what’s on screen does that all by itself. And in Scorsese’s hands, it’s impossible to turn away from.