Define slick.

Goodfellas  (Martin Scorsese, 1990)

What a great way to welcome the decade of the 90s. But it sure as hell Jimmy Conroy, Henry Hill and Tommy DeVito are anything but. For a young Scorsese fan whose only facile memory of that great director is Taxi Driver during a half-baked-one-session-a-week film app class, savoring this masterpiece of organized crime flair is like a dash of pepper on a steaming arrozcaldo during a rainy Saturday morning.

As I mentioned in another blog entry, Taxi Driver, one of Scorsese's earliest films that established him as a master auteur of crime dramas was one of the good things that came out of that hurried class but one that would surely leave a lasting impression on me and fuel a passion for the art form. While my classmates were either gasping or ewww-ing at sight of guns firing at close range and blood spewing forth, I sat at the back (as I usually do) in complete awe. Then Bro. Dot, our film professor, tasked us to do two-page analysis of Robert de Niro's acting style and cinematography. I now realized that it was such a sucker, not because I got a 7/10, but because I felt we could've done something more than the acting and cinematography which lectures we so poorly lacked.

Then I started seeing Gangs of New York and The Aviator or otherwise known as Leo's transition-to-manhood films. Both films are more than two hours long and I realized that no other director solidifies the suspension of disbelief than Scorsese. This is the same case with Goodfellas, a pitbull of crime movie which makes The Departed more like a tamed shrew. When you look at Marty, it's hard to imagine a small, cool-headed grandpa can make films that roar like lions. With such an impeccable attention to detail, Marty's belief and passion for his craft shows off in this one. 

Goodfellas is an adaptation of Nicolas Pileggi's Wiseguy, which chronicles the rise to gangsterism of Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) whose gung-ho ambition to become a gangster ever since he was a young boy lead him to one Paul Cicero (Paul Sorvino), a notorious mobster who guides Henry in the intricacies of the game. And at 21, he is rightfully ushered into the world of organized crime along with his buddies-to-be Jimmy (Robert DeNiro) and Tommy (Joe Pesci). From the three, I would have to say that no one steals the scene like Joe Pesci whose jokes and theatrics makes him a lovable sonofabitch. At one time, irked by the waiter who tells him 'to go fuck yourself', he shoots him dead. 

The camerawork is brilliant. There is one trademark long take that would wow you with the precision of its choreography. Moreover, this is a great ensemble cast starting from Liotta with his portrayal of the anti-hero Hill, DeNiro in his gritty nonchalance, Pesci who I can't say anything more than a pure dynamo, and Lorraine Bracco who plays Henry's wife. Goodfellas feels so complete in covering the whole gamut of the culture from the gangster iconology, family and inter-family relationships, the inexplicable bond between the fellas, the wanton and petty violence, betrayal and redemption.