Mr. Scorsese

Martin Scorsese has been making feature films since 1967. He had been dabbling in short films since his teen years. This is a long and, despite the reputation, a rather diverse career. It is no less remarkable a life. The new documentary, Mr. Scorsese, from Rebecca Miller, sheds light on both the personal and professional aspects of one of the most important figures in modern cinema.

Split into five segments of roughly an hour each, the film, or series, presents Scorsese’s life and career in stages. We view him from childhood through his nascent days as a filmmaker. We watch as his star rises, and the many waxing’s and waning’s of his career. Through it all, there is a humor and a brutal honesty about how he has conducted both career and life, because among the many people interviewed here, none is more revealing than the subject himself. Here is a man that was torn, in his own words, between sin and sainthood, and who was surrounded by violence. This did not leave him unaffected, and it has colored every personal and professional choice or interaction since.

Miller does not editorialize in the way many directors would with such a film, and avoids voice over narration, allowing the story of the subject to be told by those who know it best: the work and people involved. She spends much of the film with Scorsese, and copious clips from his films, including archival footage of his parents speaking of him. We get to see what all his regular, living collaborators think of him. We get to meet childhood friends, and learn exactly what sort of background led to the artist today.

There is a touch of psycho-history here, but not in the traditional sense. Instead, we come to know Scorsese, such as it is, almost through a case study by series approach. The films and person merge, with each film and stage in his life being examined to explain what was going on in one and how it mirrored the other, In this way, Scorsese becomes a very personal director that uses film to demonstrate emotional and intellectual needs and wants.

This is a work that will interest Scorsese aficionados as well as those generally interested in film history, but also anyone looking for a fascinating portrait of a complex artist. The film allows that full complexity to come to bear while never losing sight of its own value as an aural and visual record. While this is not a flashy film, Miller does engage in some excellent shots and the editing is tightly focused. Selections of music, while not done in the Scorsese style of perfect matching and heightened emotion, are appropriate and non-invasive.

There is a lot of discussion, here, of his various collaborations, particularly DeNiro, Schrader, Pileggi and DiCaprio. Schoonmaker gets much attention, too but what is given shorter shrift, is his association with Michael Powell. The film covers his devotion to preserving the Powell and Pressburger library of films, but almost nothing on his deep personal and professional association with Michael Powell. Indeed, the film gives more time to his brief work for Roger Corman and much more even then to his mentorship by John Cassavetes. It is a small criticism, for what is otherwise a fairly comprehensive work.

As a whole, Mr. Scorsese gives most of the works a fair amount of time, though one can get the feeling that films which Scorsese does not feel as strongly about or which are perhaps a source of disappointment, if only in terms of box office, do not get as much coverage. In this way, you can sense which films of his are his darlings, which are not and what lies in between. On average, one might be surprised how often they will align with Scorsese’s thoughts. That, of course, sums up what watching this one is like. It is as though you are sitting, listening to people talk about a life and, occasionally, having a conversation with them, which is a testament to how engaging the work manages to become. Highly recommended.