Martin Scorsese is reuniting with Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, and teaming for the first time with Al Pacino, for the upcoming film The Irishman. Netflix paid $105 million for the rights to it. Every Goodfellas, Casino, or Pacino (Cachino?) fan is rejoicing.
But should they be?
You’ll find no bigger fan of these legends than me, but I’m going to call it now: this movie is going to disappoint at best, and suck at worst.
The odds against this thing being good are a lot higher than you’d think. Sure, Scorsese can still dial up his fastball, but his latest efforts haven’t been nearly as good as the classics. Silence was probably good, but I wouldn’t know because seeing it felt like the life version of getting detention. Pesci hasn’t been on screen I believe since The Good Shepherd, the 2006 Matt Damon spy thriller that made the origin of the CIA look about as boring as it probably was. De Niro hasn’t been great in anything in a long time. Every role he’s in may as well be called, “Frowning Grandfather.”
And Al Pacino? It pains me to say this. He’s one of the finest actors to ever live. Michael Corleone is the single most iconic character ever put to film. But we’re only six short years removed from this:
That’s right, sports fans. It was only six years ago that the great Al Pacino ran around on film trying to fuck Lady Adam Sandler.
When the Golden State Warriors signed Kevin Durant, my buddy Lafayette Wright said it wouldn’t work out the way everyone expected necessarily. Why, you ask? Because as he put it, “Life isn’t a video game.” That’s what this feels like. It’s an old band getting back together to play their hits. Only they aren’t playing their hits really, it’s more like a cover of their old hits performed by guys who can’t do it like they used to. Cinematic karaoke.
When this comes out out on Netflix, I’ll be the first to watch it. And I hope it’s awesome. But my hopes are not high. Until then, let’s all remember these amazing performers from their better times. Like when Al Pacino lusted after Adam Sandler in a fat suit and makeup, crooning about changing his name to Dunkacino.