Raging Bull (1980)
I’ve always been a fan of Martin Scorsese. The first film of his I remember watching was The Aviator, which isn’t a bad film to start with when studying his career, but it certainly hasn’t become my favorite. Since then I’ve come to love Gangs of New York, The Departed, and, of course, Taxi Driver (which I fell head over heels for this past school year in film class). I’ve even liked some of his documentaries, like No Direction Home: Bob Dylan, so picking a film of his for my film literacy project is appropriate.
Last night, I watched Raging Bull, made by Scorsese in 1980, starring Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, which is a biopic about boxer Jake La Motta, and his tumultuous career and personal life. De Niro, as one of Scorsese’s favorite actors, of course played La Motta, while Pesci complemented him as La Motta’s brother and manager.
What struck me the most about the film was the sharp realism of the cinematography, the sets, and the costuming. It was clever of Scorsese to shoot it in a sort of utilitarian black and white, because La Motta’s life even outside the ring gains the illusion of a sports program that we’re watching live on T.V. His life essentially becomes a spectatorship as the film wears on.
The lighting and the sets helped to further the illusion as well because they were so naturalistic. In every scene, Scorsese would use lighting from windows or from visible lamps on the set or the harsh lights of the boxing ring, rather than using manufactured lighting. Everything on the sets and in the costuming, from the bulky cars to the fedoras and shoes, seemed so authentic that I almost forgot that it was a period piece.
I also noticed that throughout the film, the editing was very sparing, and the camera movements were slow and smooth, which made the pacing almost sloth-like. Normally this might be a problem, but it actually supports the dialogue and the interactions La Motta has with everyone in his life. As you begin to see, La Motta is prone to intense jealousy and anger, and constantly picks fights with his wife, his brother, or anybody who might disturb him. Watching every roundabout argument he stirs up is like pulling splinters, and after a while, you almost want to throw punches at him yourself. The slow camera and long takes helps to lull you into listening to the dialogue, whether you want to or not, and engages you with La Motta.
De Niro is great at evolving his character and keeping us guessing. A good chunk of the plot is spent on La Motta’s earlier, more destructive years, which De Niro is more than capable of doing. He portrays him more as a force of nature than a person, plowing through boxing fights, intimidating passerby, flying into jealous rages over an offhand comment or action. As we’re shown La Motta later in life, however, De Niro reverts back into himself a bit, treads more carefully than the earlier La Motta might have, giving the impression of a calmer man. Although it isn’t stated explicitly, De Niro makes it clear that La Motta has learned a little humility. Pesci seems to be his usual self, though perhaps less obnoxious.
Interestingly, there isn’t much music besides what you hear on the radio in the scenes themselves, although in the opening scene Scorsese includes an orchestral piece over an awesome slow-motion sequence of De Niro in the ring.
Overall, I thought Raging Bull was intriguing, and somewhat of a departure from what I’ve seen of Scorsese’s work so far. It reminded me of This Sporting Life, a film by Lindsay Anderson about an English boxer with similar destructive tendencies. Both have the same gritty, unpleasant realism that you don’t really see that often, which makes me wonder if Scorsese was ever influenced by it. I would definitely recommend this, especially if you want to see something a little different from Scorsese’s typical style.
