"Gotta Be Who You Are in This World: The One Scene in "The Irishman" that REALLY Struck Me

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Martin Scorcese’s “The Irishman” feels like a movie whose full value won’t be able to be ascertained until a few years from its actual release. Maybe one of those films in a directors catalogue which may grow a following, or lose it, after the years allow revisitation from fresh eyes, and new minds by a new generation. Upon my first viewing it felt about 45 mins too long, and nowhere near as memorable as past efforts by the famed director. The dialogue didn’t have the crackle that former films did, the direction didn’t have the fury, and the roles though still quite skillfully acted felt all too familiar. As a meditation on growing old, and the passage of time and death, it felt tepid, and lacking in revelation. Ive heard about these people before, I’ve seen notes on the fragility of life, and the whisper of death, and without saying anything I could cling to that provides a fresh perspective beyond Scorcese’s own catalogue, I was only moved in starts and fits. Nevertheless as an actor, and as an audience member, there were a couple of scenes really hit me in Scorcese's latest, some involved the still lacking storyline with Sheeran’s (Robert DeNiro) daughter (Ana Paquin), the other was a punch in the gut scene involving Pesci asking Sheeran to commit a crushing betrayal, but but no scene more-so than one that took place about three quarters of the way through the film. At this point Pacino’s Hoffa is beginning to come undone. In a fascinating combination of righteous indignation, unflappable principality, and enormous ego, he refuses to heed the man-made winds of change. Told time and time again he’s walking upon very thin ice under which murderous intent lies, he refuses to walk even a shade lighter. It’s the kind of behavior that infuriates audience members, and characters alike, (though we rarely ask why?). For me it was partly because of my affinity for the character. Recognizing Hoffa’s stubborn resistance as not only the preamble of death , or the most glaring flaw of the character to someone who in fact now wants him to live despite his egregious sins, but also as the inevitability of time and the futility of resistance to its grip that applies to us all. It is a bit of Spinoza’s determinism, where the necessity of our nature brings about the self actualization, or in this case manifestation of our our own fate. what was going to happen was always going to happen by way of our own distinctive nature. The scene in question takes place in a commemorative event for Robert DeNiro’s Frank Sheeran. He invites Hoffa (Pacino) there out of sincere love and fealty for a man he feels mentored him in some way, but as tensions build between Hoffa and the Mafia - Sheeran (himself involved in organized crime) along with Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci as good as ever) are left to play peacemakers. When Bufalino’s attempt to corral Hoffa fails miserably, Sheeran attempts one last time to get Hoffa to fall in line. When innuendo doesn’t work Sheeran makes it clear that Hoffa’s life itself will be the price… Pacino's reaction is the ultimate encapsulation of Spinoza’s determinism .

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When Pacino looks into another direction its almost as if he looks into the abyss and peers into his fate as he says “They wouldn’t dare”. There's a bit of recognition there. Pacino’s eyes betray a profound sense of conflict. A small battle that lasts all of a few milliseconds before the skirmish is concluded and one side is declared the winner. The side that was always going to win, the side of him that knows him best, his nature. In that one moment is a bit of fear, doubt and then a realization "I know , but what can you do?" There's sadness, and a tragic resolve, and as frustrated as it may have made me, it was principled, and subsequently it is both honorable , and foolhardy. The intersection of frustration, inevitability, and rebellion, and recklessness in Pacino’s reaction is transmitted from actor the scene to viewer like a cold. Where our planes meet is in our own inescapable slavery to our compunctions, wills, and ultimate make -up, with respect to very specific deviations, we are who we are, and the mutual realization of that is the power of the scene and of Pacino’s deeply stratified performance. It is one of the few moments for me, where actors, writer, director, even lighting converge and intertwine conspiring to elevate the film to the peak of its lofty intentions, and it’s also a heartbreaking portrayal of how the best of ourselves is often also our worst even as a audience members.