Tuesday, January 07, 2014
WoWS

I bought a new journal. From now on, I'll probably write things out longhand, "vomiting" ideas onto a page. Usually this would mean that I'd clean these rough drafts up and polish them for presenting to others. But I'm not going to do that. I'm just going to type up what I've got. You'll all have to be happy with my rambling rough notes. Hopefully, this will keep me writing. It's silly for me to worry about appearing professional anyhow, when I know that there's only a handful of people reading this. I'm not trying to write a monograph. I'm only trying to be part of a conversation.

And all apologies to Mr. Scorsese. I am not on good enough terms with you to keep referring to you as "Marty" yet I keep doing it.


Vile.

It's hard to determine what Scorsese is trying to achieve with TWoWS. It is definitely a comedy. But I deny that it works as satire.

WoWS is best described as a romp.

It is playful and it is celebratory. It winks a lot. What could be played as horrific gets played as slapstick (the Lemmon's --> Popeye sequence).

Unfortunately, the material is depraved and disgusting. Jordan Belfort, the Wolf, should not be celebrated. So, why, Scorsese, why?

I think that Marty is attracted to alternative societies/families that provide shelter and a reason for living apart from the rule of law at times when the rule of law has failed or hasn't adequately protected people in the sense that it hasn't given them a realm in which to flourish. Belfort operates outside of the law because the arbitrary financial laws that do exist serve those already in power.

Belfort's sin isn't that he manipulated stocks or tricked people out of their money. His sin is idolatry. He serves Mammon. He is a High Priest in the Courts of Mammon.

This brings along with it cultic rituals involving ritual sex and prolonged altered states of consciousness. And this, I think, is Marty's weakness. Not content to suggest something, like his best Code-era forebears, Scorsese hires all of the prostitutes he can find (women paid to get naked and simulate sex acts) and puts them on display for an audience to hoot and holler at.

The craft is superb and there is plenty in the film to chew on, but who is the audience loving and re-watching this beast? Frat boy business majors playing it on loop behind the beer pong table.

The wife-punching scene IS too little too late. Belfort is not after his child. He's after his pride. Luckily, we know he can buy a new wife if he puts enough work into it. Belfort's bootstrap ingenuity is praised to the end. His empire crumbles because of outside forces, never because he screwed up. It's always someone else's fault. It will always be someone else's fault.

Also worth noting is that Belfort not only serves a false god, he is a false god.  As the Prophet of Mammon, he speaks and wealth is created. Belfort creates a miniature world unto himself using nothing but his voice.

In the beginning was the Wolf, and the Wolf was with Mammon, and the Wolf was Mammon.

Belfort, even after his multiple "Falls", remains the man who shapes reality with his words, continuing to sucker people out of their money. This time it was me, shelling out the dough at the Temple of Cinema, that dread House of Worship that caters to the narrative whims of anyone willing to submit themselves to darkness in the hopes of catching a flickering light. This time, I only had to sacrifice my conscience at the door to spend three hours at the feet of a Wolf.

Why did I go see WoWS? Brandon had already warned me that it was "worse than Spring Breakers". He also said that he loved it. I wanted to love what Brandon loved. And if I couldn't, then I wanted to hate what Brandon loved. I wanted to be the one to tear apart WoWS, to point out its flaws, to show why and how it failed.

But I see now that I was wrong-headed. I'm not sure that there is anything that I can write that will change the exultant thrill you get at the way Marty tells this story.

At the end, I don't know what to write, except: Shame on you. Shame on me. Shame on Martin Scorsese and the entire cast and crew. WoWS, for all of its technical brilliance, belongs in the trash. To the degree that it is enjoyable, it is execrable.

All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not.

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And here's my response to Jeff's review:

Jeff: “I can completely understand someone not liking it for the simple admission that it was just too much for them.  As entertaining and downright incendiary as it can be, it really isn't easy to watch or digest with any level of comfort or gratification.”

This puts you in the place of someone who can handle “too much”. You are the superman. Those who disagree with you are weak.

Jeff: “But anyone who thinks this cretinous lifestyle displayed by these thug stockbrokers is glorified is either dead inside or frankly not paying a modicum of attention.”

Those who disagree with you, even when they bring evidence from the film, are either “dead inside” or “not paying a modicum of attention.”

Jeff: “Black comedy is rarely understood initially by the masses”

Those who disagree with you are “the masses,” never mind that WoWS is doing very well at the box office.

Jeff: “I'm pretty befuddled as to how anyone with any intelligence could think WOLF glorifies its characters' behavior.”

Those who disagree with you have no intelligence.


I’ll stop there. There’s obviously nothing that I can write about WoWS that won’t be coming from a place of timidity, stupidity, or ignorance.
Posted by trawlerman at 4:23 AM
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