Jan 9, 2014
The older I get, the more I realize that darling American Guido film director Martin Scorsese is not an artist but a mere pumped up artisan and that British auteur Peter Greenaway was right when he said of the director that he is still “making the same films that D.W. Griffith was making early last century” and that a video artist Bill Viola is “worth 10 Martin Scorseses.” Indeed, it seems Scorsese has been making the same film since Goodfellas (1990) and that his masterpiece, Taxi Driver (1976), is largely the result of Paul Schrader’s writing. Undoubtedly, with his latest flashy one-note epic The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)—a virtual three-hour-long music video celebrating psychopathic Judaic white collar criminals—Scorsese has really outdone himself, not only demonstrating that he must have fried his brain from all the excessive cocaine use over the years, but that he is also a Sicilian-American Shabbos goy who is willing to go to any extreme to please his masters. Although only referenced in cryptic ways (i.e. Yiddish slang, derogative references to WASPs), The Wolf of Wall Street is a work that essentially pays totally tasteless and puffery-plagued tribute to the fact that a real-life Semitic stockbroker named Jordan R. Belfort swindled countless rich (and poor) WASPs out of their money as a pseudo-Robin Hood of the highly Hebraic sort. Adapted from the memoirs of Belfort—who ultimately spent a mere 22 months in prison after stealing $200 million dollars and being convicted of fraud relating to stock market manipulation and running a penny stock boiler room (the ‘pump and dump’ method)—by writer/producer Terence Winter (The Sopranos, Boardwalk Empire), The Wolf of Wall Street is nothing if not a piece of patently pompous and bombastic psychopathic celluloid of the superlatively soulless sort the manages to combine the criminal-worship of Goodfellas with senseless Hebraic hyper-hedonism and juvenile Judaic scat humor of Superbad (2007), which is certainly an aesthetically corrosive kosher combo that only the most decidedly debased of degenerates will enjoy swallowing. Starring good goy Aryan actor Leonardo DiCaprio as a drug-addled degenerate Heeb with an unquenchable thirst for theft, hookers, Quaaludes who made millions upon millions ruining countless lives and was punished with less than two years in a country club prison, The Wolf of Wall Street is ultimately a depiction of the American dream in the post-WASP-rule age of kosher con men like Bernie Madoff. Starring singularly repugnant lard ass Jonah Hill (real name Jonah Feldstein) as the Wolf’s best friend/coconspirator (based on real-life Belfort co-conspirator/Israelite Danny Porush), The Wolf of Wall Street also demonstrates that you can be ugly both on the inside and outside in America and still be richer than the devil himself. Featuring the real Jordan Belfort in a cameo role at the very conclusion of film, The Wolf of Wall Street is ultimately a true and trying testament to the fact that Martin Scorsese’s morals are just as cheap and tasteless as his absurdly overrated ‘artistry.’
The year is 1987 and young budding psychopath Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio) manages to land a job with the Rothschilds (aka the most evil Jewish banking family in all of human history, which has been essentially responsible for funding both sides of every European/American war for the past couple centuries) on Wall Street. Baby Belfort becomes the protégé of his decidedly debauched boss Mark Hanna (Matthew McConaughey), who recommends that his employee literally masturbate to the thought of money, fuel himself via cocaine, and see streetwalkers regularly. Belfort has no problem following his boss’ odious orders and eventually passes his Series 7 Exam and earns his broker's license, but he loses his job not long after because of ‘Black Monday’ (October 19, 1987) when the stock markets around the world crashed. With the help of his supportive wop wife Teresa Petrillo (Cristin Milioti), Belfort manages to find a job with an undignified Long Island-based ‘boiler room’ outfit which deals in dubious ‘penny stocks’, thus allowing him to become a big fish in a small pond as a man who had real experience on Wall Street. With his aggressively charismatic and psychopathic sales pitches, Belfort manages to profit handsomely by scamming poor schmucks out of their hard earned bucks. Not long after, Belfort meets a fellow Hebraic brother named Donnie Azoff (played by Jonah Hill in a role based on Belfort’s real-life criminal partner Danny Porush) who, on top of being married to his cousin, wears nerdy glasses so people think he is a WASP. Belfort and Azoff star their own firm, Stratton Oakmont, and they hire a bunch of the latter’s dope-dealing friends to peddle scam stocks for them. Belfort also hires his parents and despite being Jewish, he lovingly describes his father "Mad" Max (Rob Reiner) as his own personal Gestapo.
The firm eventually evolves into a billion-dollar entity and they move into a huge building and one of the employees (who later blows his brains out) christens the office by receiving a blow job from a secretary in the elevator. Before long, the office turns into a 24 hour orgy where employees snort coke and screw prostitutes in the bathroom. Meanwhile, Belfort cheats on his wife and hooks up with a hot blond bimbo named Naomi Lapaglia (Margot Robbie) who he ultimately divorces his Guido wifey for. Before marrying high dollar whore Naomi, Belfort blows $2 million on an overextended bachelor’s party that includes a luxury plane ride with fifty prostitutes and a pharmacy full of drugs, as well as another fifty prostitutes for when they land. After they marry, Belfort and Naomi have a daughter, but the husband continues seeing prostitutes, including a dominatrix who he allows to shove candles up his less than kosher, kosher ass. Addicted to coke, ludes, morphine, alcohol, and loose prostitute pussy, Belfort is probably in the wrong state of mind to deal with the FBI, but after attempting to bribe a morally pristine agent named Patrick Denham (Kyle Chandler), he begins to become routinely hounded by the Feds and thus begins laundering money to a Swiss bank account with the help of a Swiss degenerate named Jean-Jacques Saurel (Jean Dujardin). Among other things, Belfast manages to destroy a yacht that used to be owned by Coco Chanel after he idiotically orders the captain of his ship to sail in a storm while his family is own board, thus demonstrating both his psychopathic and self-destructive tendencies. After seeing a plane that was supposed to pick him up explode in mid air, egomaniac Belfort believes it is a sign from god to sober up, but not long after ending his lechery he is picked up by the FBI while filming a sleazy infomercial. It is revealed that Belfort’s Swiss partner Saurel was arrested and squealed to the cops, thus incriminating everyone at Stratton. Of course, Belfort bitches out, complies with the FBI, and agrees to wear a wire. On top of that, Belfort’s wife asks for a divorce, so he beats her up, gets high, attempts to kidnap his own daughter, and crashes his car in his driveway with said daughter in the passenger seat. In the end, Belfort naturally pussies out and tells the cops everything, thus leading to a raid of Stratton and the destruction of his entire life’s work. Sentenced to three years in prison, Belfort has a plush stay at a country club-like minimum security prison where he can play tennis and pretend to be a WASP. After getting out of prison after a mere 22 months, Belfort becomes a ‘motivational speaker’ and teaches individuals how to con people just like he conned some many people before.
A couple days ago, Joel M. Cohen, a former federal prosecutor who prosecuted Jordan Belfort when he an assistant United States attorney, wrote on article entitled ‘The Real Belfort Story Missing From ‘Wolf’ Movie’ that totally demystifies Scorsese’s film and exposes that the white collar antihero continues to con people to this day with his lie-ridden self-flattering memoirs. Aside from the fact that Cohen reveals that Belfort was never really called ‘the Wolf of Wall street’ but merely created the catchy narcissistic name to sell his books, the ex-prosecutor revealed that the man he prosecuted was a true blue coward, stating, “His now-defunct firm, Stratton Oakmont, wasn’t representative of the typical Wall Street brokerage firm. When their days of reckoning came, Mr. Belfort and Mr. Porush didn’t stand up against law enforcement, but rather caved, quickly agreeing to cooperate against virtually everyone close to them.” Of course, Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street portrays Belfort as a valiant fighter with the utmost personal dignity who fought to the bitter end. Aside from also revealing that, despite gaining a killing in regard to his book royalties, Belfort has paid virtually nothing to his victims as was court ordered, Cohen ultimately concludes regarding Scorsese’s film, ““The Wolf of Wall Street” creators can possibly justify excluding victims from their story, but not while they literally give the final scene to the real Jordan Belfort. That might be art, but it’s wrong.” Of course, Cohen was being mighty generous when he described the film as ‘art’ as nothing could be further from the truth because, like virtually all of the films Scorsese has directed since Taxi Driver, The Wolf of Wall Street takes nil artistic risks and meekly caters to the same corrupt kosher crowd that any sniveling hack in Hollywood would kiss up to further their career.
With its nonstop use of generic pop music (a technique Scorsese openly admits he stole from Kenneth Anger), never-ending debauched Spring Breakers-esque orgy party scenes, and moronically narrated storyline, The Wolf of Wall Street is like one long flashy car commercial that has about as much as artistic merit to it as, well, a car commercial. Indeed, just like Belfort’s boiler room stocks, The Wolf of Wall Street is a fulsome celluloid con meant to appeal to man’s most base instincts. Undoubtedly, what I found most patently absurd and indicative of how degenerate our times are in regard to The Wolf of Wall Street is that the psychopathic Hebrew antihero of the film is more disgusting, criminally-inclined, and irredeemable than the eponymous Jewish villain of Veit Harlan’s infamous National Socialist melodrama Jud Süß (1940) aka Jew Süss and yet he is glorified for it. Undoubtedly, that a would-be-wanton work like The Wolf of Wall Street could be made for the American mainstream public, let alone warmly received and respected by said American public, just goes to show that a good portion of the American public is also both irredeemable and destined for a rather bitter end. Of course, I never doubted Martin Scorsese’s degeneracy as he made that quite clear long ago when he made the documentary American Boy: A Profile of Steven Prince (1978), which is about a gay Jewish junky criminal friend of the director who had a cameo role as a fast-talking criminal weapons dealer in Taxi Driver, yet The Wolf of Wall Street is truly an all-time low for not only the filmmaker, but for Hollywood in general. Featuring Leonardo DiCaprio taking a lit candle in the ass, wild gay orgies, horrendous Heeb Jonah ‘The Whale’ Hill masturbating at a party in front of hundreds of people, and the real Jordan Belfort wallowing in his egomania at the conclusion of the film, The Wolf of Wall Street, ultimately reminds me why I have not stepped in a movie theater for a good half a decade or so and why I will probably never do so again.
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 9:17 PM
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