The Wolf of Wall Street will win a wheelbarrow full of awards. Even so, I can’t recommend it.
Early stories about The Wolf of Wall Street prompted me to pass on seeing it (particularly this passionate letter from the daughter of one of the Wolf’s cronies). But yesterday, with nothing much else to choose from on Movie Day, we found ourselves at Midtown Arts Cinema, settling in for three hours with the Wolf.
Leo DiCaprio racked up a Golden Globe for best actor in a comedy for this film, and even high brow old media outlets have adopted the practice of referring to Wolf as a “savage comedy.” And while it’s true that there are funny scenes — the world’s slowest fight scene, between two people on Quaaludes, for example — I’m not sure this is the kind of picture most people have in mind when they show up at the multiplex wanting to see a funny movie.
As Jordan Belfort, the self-styled Wolf, DiCaprio does a great job of portraying an outwardly charming con man who despises anyone gullible enough to fall for his spiel. I don’t agree, though, with the critics who claim DiCaprio’s performance “glorifies” or “celebrates” Belfort’s crimes. Instead, the movie’s message seems to be that people like Belfort never really suffer for what they’ve done, even when convicted and packed off to (a rather luxurious) prison.
One of the film’s final images is that of a room full of slack-jawed New Zealanders, soaking up every word of the Wolf’s latest sales pitch. For a moment, I couldn’t help but see the screen as a mirror of the theater audience: staring up at the Wolf, mesmerized by his patter, and parting with their good money to spend a few minutes in a charming criminal’s presence.
And so, perhaps the movie is a comedy after all. I suspect, however, that the joke is on us, and that Jordan Belfort is still laughing all the way to the bank.
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