Martin Scorcese will be keeping busy in the years ahead, as he's set to reteam with Leonardo DiCaprio for the first time since The Wolf Of Wall Street and Robert De Niro for historical crime thriller Killers Of the Flower Moon. Over 60 songs were used in the 2013 movie, with the likes of "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick" by Ian Dury & The Blockheads, Cypress Hill's "Insane In The Brain," "Cloudburst" by Lambert Hendricks & Ross and John Lee Hooker's "Boom Boom" are among the many tracks that didn't make it on to the official soundtrack release. Although not a natural comedy player, DiCaprio has a great comic moment when a cheesy infomercial he's shooting is horribly interrupted by the forces of the law.It's a fine selection, but it barely scratches the surface of the amount of music that was actually featured in The Wolf Of Wall Street. But when the Securities and Exchange Commission and the FBI start taking an interest, he needs to hide the cash through Swiss and British contacts, enabling a cameo from Jean Dujardin as the corrupt banker Jean Jacques Saurel and a glorious appearance from Joanna Lumley as Belfort's "Aunt Emma" with whom he has a wonderfully surreal romantic clinch. Belfort turns his operation into a glitzy firm and holds colossal trading-floor parties with dancing girls like a low-rent Charles Foster Kane. Belfort starts getting rich through selling unregulated penny stocks over the phone in a "chop shop": a bunch of guys cold-calling the public from landlines installed in a converted garage, as in Ben Younger's 2000 film Boiler Room.īelfort impulsively hires his neighbour Donnie Azoff, played by Jonah Hill, a nerdy overweight guy with a weird cosmetic dental plate and Donnie becomes his beta-male wingman in the unending conquest of money and prostitutes. It zooms along, and DiCaprio always looks the part – there's even a touch of Cagney sometimes. And he never saw any need for any period of remorse in the first place. And if we suspect that in 2014 the financial world agrees with former Barclays CEO Bob Diamond that its "period of remorse needs to be over"– well, maybe Belfort is the broker for our times. The sulphurous whiff is conjured by his very impenitence. But what gives the film its unwholesome black-comic fizz, and a measure of originality, is that Belfort never displays any remorse there is no narrative comeuppance, no rebuke from anyone whose moral authority he recognises. Perhaps it's not obvious what Belfort has to tell us about Wall Street's decadence that hasn't already been said by Oliver Stone's Gordon Gekko or indeed Tom Wolfe's Sherman McCoy. It's entertainingly outrageous, and there's a shaggy-dog comic effect in seeing the same nightmare debauch over and over, although I don't think the coke'n'strippers war stories exactly constitute that critique of capitalism that some pundits have claimed for this film. While Hill luxuriated in the minutiae and details of gangsterdom, and Sam Rothstein gave some feel for what the gambling world was about in Scorsese's Casino (1995), Belfort will often stop in the middle of explaining a financial scam, and say that we don't want to hear about anything as boringly technical as this – surely what we want is the naked girls and the wild times, and that's what we get.
The comparison with Hill is actually inexact: what Jordan wants to be specifically is rich, and shifting stocks on Wall Street is the way to do it. The vulpine salesman's broad smile is still more or less in place.
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Leonardo DiCaprio – credited as producer, alongside Scorsese – plays Belfort and his character gets to the end of this long movie having learned nothing, conceded nothing and even physically changed in no obvious way. Finally, like Henry Hill before him, Belfort has to swallow hard and confront the possibility of betraying his partners to minimise the inevitable jail term. It is based on the memoirs of crooked broker Jordan Belfort who during the 1980s and 90s enjoyed unlimited amounts of sports cars, drugs and prostitutes, paid for by millions of dupes and dopes buying his fraudulently inflated stocks.
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This movie sprints frantically, in the direction of nowhere in particular, like our appalling hero after his first ecstatic toke of crack cocaine. I've watched it twice in quick succession now, and though it skirts the edge of cliche, the sheer sustained blitz of bad taste is spectacular. It's a raucous, crazily energised, if occasionally slightly shallow epic on a familiar subject, conducted in the classic voiceover-nostalgia style with sugar-rush jukebox slams on the soundtrack. If you can imagine the honey-gravel of Ray Liotta's voice in Goodfellas saying: "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a stockbroker" you'll get some idea of Martin Scorsese's new movie The Wolf of Wall Street.
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