Wolf of Wall Street is just another Oscar showcase for DiCaprio, filled with repetitive amorality that’s hammered on your face for three hours.
Martin Scorsese directs the story of New York stockbroker Jordan Belfort. From the American dream to corporate greed, Belfort goes from penny stocks and righteousness to IPOs and a life of corruption in the late 80s. Excess success and affluence in his early twenties as founder of the brokerage firm Stratton Oakmont warranted Belfort the title “The Wolf of Wall Street.” — (C) Paramount
The film starts on an interesting note. It’s an funny take on amorality and decadence that may elicit envy from dude-bros, corporate sleazeballs or anyone who likes a steady dose of drugs, hookers, and money.
This is another Oscar bait movie for DiCaprio, but in fairness he gives an engaging performance as the unreedemable jerk.
But no matter how good he is at selling this movie,Wolf Of Wall Street drowns in its own sea of absurdity. It’s redundant and bloated. The already thin cautionary tale is stretched for three hours. There’s no sense of a narrative as the crazy riotous scenes are stringed together as a plot and you’re expected to laugh at it. The scene were DiCaprio gets hit by a delayed reaction of drugs just drags on.
While the film did show its lead’s inevitable fall, it didn’t show the real consequences of his actions. We don’t know what happened to the victims and we’re left to assume that many of them went bankrupt.
As a result, the audience ends up becoming complicit to the whole proceedings. Instead of being a commentary, it’s voyeuristic. It’s clear that the film is only interested in Belfort and not much else. It fits in a way, but makes the cautionary tale of excess ring hollow. The film can’t separate itself from the world it’s trying to expose.
It’s still entertaining and probably the funniest Scorsese movie yet, but it’s too focused on Belfort’s lifestyle and shenanigans to mean more than just another tale of decadence.
My Rating: 6.5/10