Wolf Of Wall Street, The

Synopsis:  The story of Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio), an ambitious young Wall Street stockbroker in the late '80s who becomes obscenely wealthy defrauding investors only to crash and burn once the SEC and FBI get him in their sights.

Do we need another film about The American Dream out of control, about a kid from the other side of the tracks who gets everything he desires only to lose it all? The Wolf Of Wall Street, despite being a top drawer production, inclines us to say “no”.  Recalling a host of movies that I can’t actually recall, with the exception of Scorsese’s own Casino (1995) the film is yet another glossy compendium of outlandishly conspicuous consumption and modern-day Sodom-and-Gomorrah excess. Unlike De Niro’s casino boss, Sam Rothstein, however, not only is Jordan Belfort a shallow figure and his wife, Naomi (Australian actress, Margot Robbie), but a low rent version of Sharon Stone’s Ginger, frankly their journey is, to paraphrase Andy Warhol, exactly from A to B and back again.

Commanding centre stage is Leonardo DiCaprio in his fifth collaboration with the director. DiCaprio variously struts, preens, rages, staggers and writhes his way through the film like a crazed and not-so-great Jay Gatsby (or conversely a less-deranged Patrick Bateman from the 2000 satire of 1980s Wall Street, American Psycho, a role which DiCaprio was offered but turned down). It’s not great acting but it’s compelling huff’n’puff. Jordan Belfort is not a good person but he’s fun to be around (the lively script by Terence Winter is based on Belfort's own memoir).  Indeed, Scorsese plays the story for laughs and were it not for the sordidness of it all one would describe the film as a comedy.  Some of the scenes, such as the Quaalude misadventure towards the film’s end are absurdly comical. Support roles from Jonah Hill, Matthew McConaughey and Rob Reiner all help with giving the film its entertaining party-like-it's-1989 attitude.

But that’s the problem. Did we really need three hours to discover that nothing exceeds like excess? Feel lucky as apparently the original cut was closer to four. Of what made it through there's at least another thrity minutes that could have been pruned. And whilst we are on the subject of editing there are some really bad edits, particularly of the shot-reverse shot type, see, for example, the London park bench scene between DiCaprio and Joanna Lumley). 

What we did need was some dramatic development, some evolution in Jordan’s character (he did start off as a bright-eyed young family man, after all). But all we get is more wasted on drugs and hookers. The film’s "so-what?" ending is particularly underwhelming in this respect.  It’s as if Scorsese couldn’t be bothered anymore, that he’d had his fun capturing the world of "cocaine, testosterone and bodily fluids" as Belfort puts it, and just wanted to wrap up and go home.  You’ll probably feel the same.

 

Want something different?