In The Wolf of Wall Street, out-of-control stock broker Jordan Belfort is initially furious when a Forbes magazine profile turns out to be a hatchet job labelling him a “twisted Robin Hood who takes from the rich and gives to himself and his merry band of brokers.’’
But Belfort, played by Leonardo Di Caprio, is quickly schooled on the rules of publicity. The next morning his office is overrun with rabid young brokers desperately waving resumes, dying to join his merry band.
The reaction to Martin Scorsese’s portrait of Wall Street excess has been comically similar. It’s been judged by some critics and moviegoers as a glorification of unchecked greed.
The Wolf of Wall Street has turned into easily the most debated film in an award season otherwise lacking much controversy, aside from some scattered fact-bending concerns.
Nearly every film critic and countless moviegoers have weighed in on the morality of The Wolf of Wall Street: whether the film enjoys Belfort’s hedonistic high a little too much, or if tapping into the thrill of self-indulgence is actually the point.
“He does it because he can,” Scorsese said in a recent interview. “If you can do anything because you can, what are we as people? Can we easily fall into it? I think so.’’
The largest missive came when LA Weekly published an open letter by Christina McDowell, the daughter of a lawyer Belfort worked with, in which she described the hard realities of those victimized by the shady penny stock dealings of Belfort.
“Your film is a reckless attempt at continuing to pretend that these sorts of schemes are entertaining, even as the country is reeling from yet another round of Wall Street scandals,” McDowell wrote.
To the critics the film fails to sufficiently judge the actions of its characters or depict the victims of Belfort’s recklessness. The Wall Street Journal’s Joe Morgenstern called the film a “hollow spectacle.
” And since the movie is based on Belfort’s memoir, the former broker, who was convicted of fraud and served 22 months in prison, has profited from the making of the film, whether monetarily or in publicity for his motivational speaking.
He also makes a brief cameo in the movie. As part of his sentence, Belfort was ordered to repay defrauded investors $110.4 million, a figure he’s unlikely to ever approach fulfilling.
A portion of his income goes toward a victim compensation fund. Belfort has said he’s turning over all profits from the movie to the government.
The backlash, though, may be taking indignation for Belfort, who received a relatively soft sentence after giving evidence against his colleagues, and misplacing it on the movie. In an interview, Di Caprio called the film “a biography of a scumbag.
’’ Much of the film focuses not just on Belfort’s rise from a lowly Long Island penny stock broker to a hugely wealthy and powerful figure but on the panting excitement his audacity inspires. In one of the movie’s most famous scenes, one played frequently in advertisements, Jonah Hill’s character quits his job minutes after hearing how much money Di Caprio makes.
The ominous concluding image of the film is of a rapt audience soaking up Belfort’s motivational speaking.
More than anything, the film questions this innate allure of greed, leaving moviegoers to question their own culpability in a system that rewards Belfort’s behaviour. The New Yorker’s Richard Brody wrote: “Those who are decrying its extremes are maintaining their own innocence, protesting all too much their immunity to its temptations.
’’Scorsese said he “didn’t want to stand back and say, ‘This is bad behaviour.’’’
“It’s not for us to say. It’s for us to present,” he said. “And obviously it’s bad behaviour. Obviously the values are twisted and turned upside down.’’ It’s not every day that a 71-year-old filmmaker releases a film that provokes like The Wolf of Wall Street has. Said Scorsese: “If it raises the ire of some people, that might be a good thing because it makes you think about it.’’—AP
