Scarface

It's been awhile since I've actually sat down and reviewed a movie, so today we'll take a look at Brian De Palma's Scarface (1982), a film I've long put off seeing but finally got around to today.

During the late '70s, Fidel Castro empties the Cuban jails of political undesirables and criminals, leading a short-lived exodus of immigrants to the United States. One such man is Tony Montana (Al Pacino), a former soldier and petty crook who arrives in America with little hope for the future. Along with his partner Manny (Steven Bauer), Tony finds work as a minor thug for Miami drug lord Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia) and quickly ascends the ranks after killing a number of Lopez's rivals. However, Tony's ruthless ambition and eye for Frank's girlfriend Elvira (Michelle Pfeifer) land him in trouble with his boss - but Tony kills Lopez and ascends to the top, becoming one of America's biggest drug lords. However, investigations by the Feds, marital problems with Elvira, his possessive relationship with sister Gina (Mary Stuart Mastrantonio), an escalating cocaine addiction and his general paranoia make him a vulnerable target for his rivals - especially after he refuses to carry out a job for rival mobster Sosa (Paul Shenar).

Scarface revels in its excess. For a film directed by Brian De Palma, starring Al Pacino and written by Oliver Stone, one should not expect a subtle film. It's entertaining enough on its own glossy terms, but it lacks the richness, nuance and depth of truly great Mob films like The Godfather, Once Upon a Time in America and Casino, sacrificing depth for surface flair. That's not to say it's not without merits; indeed, it's a very good film provided of course one isn't expecting a Shakespearean masterpiece.

Nominally a remake of the fine 1932 Howard Hawks film with Paul Muni, Scarface maintains only a shred of the narrative and character development and forges its own story, for better and worse. Its narrative is episodic and rather sloppy; aside from its larger than life lead, the cast is made up largely of ciphers with little depth. Not that it matters much, as the film is designed as a complete triumph of style over substance, and mostly succeeds in that way. Few people going into the film are going to be looking for a strong story anyway, least of all the rappers and gang-bangers who seem to have adopted the film as their own.

Tony Montana is an operatic character writ impossibly large. Like all movie gangsters, his rise to power is a perversion of the American Dream, an immigrant finding success through power. This hoary old stereotype has been presented in every film from Little Caesar onward, so there's little new in this. Watching his downfall, however, is perversely fascinating, as in the best Mob films. Ensconced in a mansion, hiding behind piles of money and coke, he alienates his wife, his friends and family, even his business partners. The film wisely doesn't try to romanticize Tony or humanize him to an unreasonable degree; his relationship with his sister and mother (Miriam Colon) serves only to highlight what a slimy ass he is; his rotten marriage is completely empty, making Michael Corleone look like an ideal husband; he ends up killing several of his friends, henchmen and business partners. Tony is a dangerous combination of impulsive, violent, ambitious, and egomaniacal. He thinks he has the world coming to him, and no one or nothing is going to stand in his way.

De Palma provides the film with suitably larger-than-life direction. He lets the bullets and blood fly, with the body count reaching monumental proportions. He shows off his film-buffery a few times, with a tracking shot during a murder reminiscent of Frenzy and a character claiming to have worked on Pontecorvo's Burn! , but mostly its all De Palma, sloppy, high-octane but viscerally intriguing - like Tarantino without the grace and control (and not as well-focused, it would seem, as screenwriter Stone's own excess). This movie's famous final shootout with a rival gang's hit squad is a bit too over-the-top, even for me, making The Wild Bunch's fabled finale look like a friendly picnic. Still, within the context of the film - and considering the character who is its center - it's the only appropriate ending. His direction on The Untouchables a few years later would be much more restrained and classy if no less stylish.

Al Pacino makes the film with a bravura performance of record-setting scenery-chewing. He plays Tony broadly over-the-top, as a consummate actor, concerned only with self-gratification and - as if trying to convince the other characters of his righteousness. It's hard to criticize Pacino's turn as over-the-top because that's exactly what the character demands. The rest of the cast is mostly non-descript: talented actors like Robert Loggia, Michelle Pfeifer, Mary Stuart Mastrantonio, Harris Yulin and F. Murray Abraham are all given fairly minor parts, completely overshadowed by Pacino. This isn't inherently a bad thing but it robs the film of well-rounded depth; it's essentially a one-man show, but fortunately focused on a man powerful enough to carry the film on his shoulders.

Scarface is a sprawling, ambitious film, a comic-book version of The Godfather that almost elevates blood-soaked pulp into cinematic art. It succeeds as a piece of entertainment, but it doesn't quite reach the top tier of gangster flicks. That said, it's still one hell of a ride - a mess, but a fascinating mess.

Rating: 7/10 - Recommended