I went to see “The Wolf of Wall Street” last night.<\/p>\n
I’m really not the best person to talk about Martin Scorsese’s work and how “Wolf” fits into the context of his career; I’m really spotty on Scorsese, though I’m working to fill in some gaps. But what I can do is take it in isolation as a movie, without the burden of trying to fit it into any other context.<\/p>\n
If you like hookers and blow, this is your movie. There is plenty of nekked woman-flesh on display – and we’re not talking just topless; there’s a considerable amount of full-frontal female nudity. There’s also plenty of Bolivian marching powder, and quite a few scenes involving the snorting of same off of the neither regions of paid professionals, if you know what I mean and I think you do.<\/p>\n
But even more prevalent than Peruvian E is Quaalude. In case you haven’t read any reviews of “Wolf”, the movie is also jam-packed with references to, and discourses upon, Quaaludes. Quaaludes drive several of the major plot points of the movie, including a funny sequence involving the titular “Wolf” (he he, he said “titular”) suddenly experiencing the effects of an old batch of tablets at precisely the worst possible moment.<\/p>\n
Did I mention that “Wolf” is funny? I’ve seen it described as a “black comedy”, and I can’t really argue with that. I wouldn’t say it was as convulsively funny as “Sharknado” or “Spinal Tap”, but it had me smiling and quietly giggling during much of the three hour running time.<\/p>\n
(In case you haven’t read any reviews II: this is a long<\/strong> movie. Not Larry of Araby long, but still pretty long.)<\/p>\n I wish Joanna Lumley had more screen time. She’s luminous in the few scenes she has. She’s especially good in the “is he hitting on me\/is she hitting on me?” scene with DiCaprio; watching that scene…well, I wanted very much to take Ms. Lumley out for a cheeseburger and the amusing house red, and get her away from that sleezebag.<\/p>\n