Episode 31: Raging Bull
Justin:
There are three words that are often associated with these fancy moving pictures that we all know and love. There are “movies,” there are “films,” and then there is “cinema.” I know there are actual definitions of all of them and I assure you I’m not going to try and differentiate between the three of them. All I’m going to say for now is that while I use “movies” and “films” pretty much interchangeably (with some exceptions) I usually reserve my use of the word cinema in any of its forms, right or wrong, for only the most elite craftsmanship I witness.
So to that point, RAGING BULL is cinema.
Now, it’s not my favorite movie ever or really anywhere close (it’s not even in my top 5 from Scorsese himself) but that mostly has to do with the difficult nature of the story and the elements therein that make Jake LaMotta completely unsympathetic. Scorsese’s famous “depict but don’t endorse” mentality is blasted to the max here as the boxer completely obliterates his life and his relationships over constant pangs of jealousy, insecurity, and sexual frustration. The man just plain sucks.
But there are moments in RAGING BULL that I would put as some of the all-time greatest feats in movie making history. The work Marty does inside the ring specifically, though only making up about ten minutes of screentime, is absolutely next level. He experiments with aspects like frame speed and close-ups and then the black-and-white color on top of all of that just adds another element of greatness to it. I actually think the reason the boxing scenes don’t take up too much of the actual movie is because with the way Scorsese shot them, it makes the viewer feel like they’re right there going toe-to-toe with the Bronx Bull and just about ready to get knocked out. We couldn’t take any more even if we wanted to.
I know most of the shine of this movie goes to Robert De Niro’s incredible performance; don’t get me wrong - he deserves every ounce of that praise. However, if there was a championship fight to determine the winner of this movie, I think it goes the full fifteen rounds without a TKO and if you have to go to the cards against Martin Scorsese, you’re just plain gonna lose. He’s just so great and has been for so long and the vision he displays with even the briefest of shots, like a bruised hand in a tub of ice or a blood-soaked rope dripping ever so perfectly onto a boxing ring, is on a different plane altogether.
And then there’s my personal favorite shot when Jake finally gets thrown in jail and he’s just finished having a little tantrum. He settles down and sits in the shadows, just slightly to the right of a brave bit of protruding light. As he mumbles to himself that he’s “not that bad '' and “not an animal,” he remains in the dark, his placement speaking volumes about what this character is going through, sure, but more about how we should feel about him. Jake is always hovering around and near the light and kinda/maybe/probably wants to be there, but he absolutely, positively lives in the dark, whether by nature or choice we may never actually know. But everything we do know is thanks to the visual storytelling and the amazing man behind the camera.
So to my earlier point, Martin Scorsese doesn’t make “movies” or “films.” When you have a director with an eye for detail like the one he showcases here, it’s that vision that places his picture in the dictionary right below the phrase cinematic genius, as he is clearly the most perfect definition possible.
