Casino (1995).

Martin Scorsese seems to be doing pretty well for himself so far, these days.  He's got a ton of great films to his credit.  His work is, in general, of such a quality that it has allowed him that rare achievement which is granted to few artists.  He's managed to become a household name not just within critical, but also the pop culture circles of average moviegoers.  Even those who rarely catch any of his cinematic efforts have some sort of name recognition of the guy.  This can be seen in the way so many moments, characters, or lines of dialogue have kept turning up in the most unlikeliest of places.  Despite the guy's notorious reputation for his unflinching look at the history of violence in America, somehow none of this has stood in the way of, say, the makers of kids TV shows from taking the three main characters from Goodfellas and turning them into a bunch of animated talking pigeons.  Not making a word of that up, by the way.  You want to know the strangest thing about a piece of pop culture osmosis like that?  I'll bet you anything it's from shows like this that 80s and 90s kids like me first had any inkling that films like Taxi Driver and Raging Bull were out there, somewhere.  And the one thing they all had in common was that they were directed by this small looking guy with the somehow memorable name.  I got around to him eventually, yet it took some time.  Nor would it surprise me to learn that the process at which I arrived at Marty's cinema is a route that's been traveled by others of my generation in a similar way or fashion.

It didn't start out with Scorsese, for me.  It began with Francis Ford Coppola.  You know what, come to think of it, a better way to say it is that it's all Marlon Brando's fault.  Looking back, I think I can say he's the one who got this whole aspect of my movie-going life rolling.  It even began thanks to the same show that parodied Goodfellas.  I saw another episode of Animaniacs that parodied the fictional figure of Don Vito Corleone, and I guess the animators must have done at least something to capture the gravitas that the actor was able to give the character in the original film.  Because after a few repeat viewings I got curious about what it was the Warner Bros. (and the Warner Sister) were going out of their way not just to lampoon, but also highlight what I somehow knew, even as a kid, was something they clearly thought was important.  I mean, yeah, they were having a laugh at Brando's most famous roll and all that crap.  But it's like, at the same time, there was no way the guys who made that show could hide the fact that the only reason the parody was there in the first place was because they felt that here was a character that deserved respect.  It wasn't like how things are now.  These days, if you want to parody or satirize something, you've only got one goal in mind.  To tear the target a new one, and leave them in a ditch somewhere for the scavengers to finish off.  With this guy, it was all different.

Here you could tell they liked whoever this character was under all the laughter.  It was like being made King for a Day, even as they were poking fun at you.  I don't think I'd ever seen a show where the glories of cinema's past got that kind of respect.  It was like being introduced to a foreign language that you already knew how to speak on some level so fundamental you didn't even know it was there.  Once you were in it, however, it was like you always knew the lingo by heart.  It was like discovering this whole new, little world, and it was all meant for you.  "It was like mainlining adrenaline, and I was hooked in seconds (web)".  So basically I'm just going along, you know.  Hanging loose and enjoying all the pleasures that 90s kids culture has to offer.  All that good stuff we used to have and do.  Then as happens, I get to remembering that guy the Animaniacs celebrated a while back, and I kind of start to wonder if maybe I shouldn't check out the original source material.  Why not, I mean that's what the show was best at.  One of the good things to be said about a show like this was that its pop culture and movie parodies were often good enough to make you want to go and hunt down the original films they were referencing.  That's how good they were.  It was satire as a form of sharing your enthusiasms with others in a way that made your audience want to learn more and the history of a film they lampooned.  

Or at least that's what happened to me, anyway, so far as I know, looking back.  That show might have been the main reason I became a film junkie in the first place.  I'm don't just mean an interest in whatever the hell is the latest releases from the next BS streaming service, either.  I'm talking about watching a bunch of cartoon version of Scorsese characters as they somehow end up as extra's in Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, and the whole damn thing is so funny that I finally allow myself the chance to go and watch one of the groundbreaking pictures in the history of Horror genre.  Can you even name one show for kids that grants them that level of an education?  I mean for real.  Anybody?  Didn't think so.  That's how good we had it back then.  Anyway, the way the road to Marty's films worked is I'm shown the character of Don Corleone.  He's always there flitting around in either the front or back of my mind, like this odd figure of mystery that part of me wants to figure out.  However I don't do that yet.  Instead, what happens is I'm in this now old, and defunct video store, the kind where they used to have wall mounted TVs that would run a constant loop of old movie trailers.  And one of them comes on starring that Ferris Bueller guy, and who do you think is sharing the spotlight with him?  That's right.  It was that guy from the Animaniacs mobster episode.  Or rather it was the original guy they were making fun of.

He looked just like his characterization from the TV show into the bargain.  It was like watching a cartoon character come to life.  The whole thing was surreal and fun at the same time.  What made it even better was that here was Brando clearly having a good time while parodying himself, for all intents and purposes.  It was just a trailer for some obscure 80s comedy called The Freshman that I'd never even heard about until just that moment.  Yet I knew the moment I saw the damn thing that pretty soon I would going to watch all of it from start to finish.  I mean, I don't know about you, but there was never any question in my mind.  So I watched the Matt Broderick flick, and pretty much got to laugh my ass off.  Like, for me, it was getting to watch a cartoon you used to enjoy as a kid take on the qualities of flesh and blood.  I have no clue how many others out there were this lucky.  That was sort of the whole deal, though, right?  I mean all Steven Spielberg did was create a kids show that gave you an interest in being a film buff.  The whole setup was that simple, and it paid off like gangbusters where I was concerned.  So after I watch The Freshman I'm ready to gear myself up to watch the flick that started this whole thing.  I finally sit down and take in The Godfather, and the rest is pretty much history.  

You got to understand, this wasn't my first introduction to what's now considered Classic Cinema.  Hell, Brando wasn't even the first movie star I was familiar with.  That honor went to guys like the Three Stooges and the Marx Brothers.  That's just how my childhood was, okay?  It was the strangest freaking thing.  Where other guys were busy with the Ninja Turtles, or the Masters of the Universe, I'm over in my little corner learning about these classic Hollywood tough guys like Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney.  So you just know that shit's going to put a particular slant in your mind.  There I am, barely nine years old, and already I'm turning myself into a temporal anachronism.  The kind of guy who will grow up with aesthetic tastes that are always going to be somewhat antiquarian by the standards of the rest of the world.  Yeah, maybe it means I'm always playing catch-up.  None of you mooks still have a clue what you're missing, and it's a sentiment that guys like Scorsese are pretty much committed to.  I don't think I've ever run across someone with so much knowledge of the cinema of bygone days.  I mean this guy here is like a walking encyclopedia.  He can tell you who directors like Powell and Pressbuger were.  Or give you an archeological rundown of where the Blues music genres comes from. 

My point is that while I'm a late-comer to Scorsese, it still didn't take me long to figure why this guy was such a big deal.  He's just plain good at his job; that's the point.  I mean think about it, here you've got this poor street punk from NYC.  He's got a good home, and yet he lives in a rough neighborhood, and one of the only escape routes he can find from all that crap is the local movie theater.  It's not the only place where Marty got his education, but it is where the rest of his professional life was determined for better or worse.  Take your pick on how you want to look at an outcome like that.  Not much difference from any other roll of the dice, so far as I'm concerned.  He just became one of the few who, first made it out of the ghetto alive, and then made a name for himself as a movie artist.  Last I checked, he's still one of the most well regarded filmmakers of either the 20th or 21st century.  Someone who to this day is still worthy to stand among the giants.  I mean to hear some people tell it, this guy deserves to have his own spot up on Rushmore, or something.  At least that's what they all say in all the old critics circles.  When you take that same reputation and apply it to the rest of us in the aisles, that's where things can get interesting.  For instance, I swear, it's difficult to tell just what kind of reputation any of the classic director's of yesteryear still have in this day and age.  That applies even to those who are still with us, like Marty, George, or Spielberg.  See, back in the 80s, these guys were all like titans.

I'm serious.  These they had it all down so cold.  When I was still just a kid if you heard that somebody like Lucas or Scorsese was releasing a new film in theaters, that in itself was pretty much considered something of an event.  Anybody who could make to the premier of a film like Goodfellas was considered one lucky bastard.  And the rest of us all had to just sit and bask in the other guy's gloating privileges.   Oh yeah, and we also happen to learn along the way about just how good the picture was.  That was way back then, however.  These days there's no telling what kind of reputation any artist has got, even if you've got a flick like Raging Bull or Raiders of the Lost Ark on your resume.  It's all like, "Big deal", now.  Take you number and get the fuck back in line.  At least that's how things seem to shake out to me, anyway.  If all these morbid musings should ever turn out to be the case, then all I can say is guys like Marty Scorsese from Queens is always going to have at least one champion in his corner so far as my neck of the woods is concerned.  Anybody's got a problem with that, take it to someone who gives a fuck.  I'm here to appreciate artists at work, ya get me?  At least, that's what I'm normally up to here, more or less.  Then I went and watched a film called Casino, and the credits rolled I came away with one simple question on my mind.  Can geniuses even geniuses have their off days?