Goodfellas, 30 Years On: You Always Want to be a Gangster

[Spoilers ahead for The Irishman and Goodfellas]

“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.” And so was born an instant classic, a film that’s considered one of the greatest of all time. Goodfellas explored the ultimate high-life of men in the American Mafia, some of whom were at the highest rungs of the Mob ladder. These men were respected and feared in equal measure, never short on cash and never without all the luxuries they could wish for—even when serving prison time. Most of the men were escaping a mundane home life, chasing the dream of really “making it” as a revered gangster. At two-and-a-half hours long, Goodfellas is not a film that drags, but rather a pure adrenaline rush that builds up and up and up, until its inevitable, almighty crash. 

Director Martin Scorsese had no intention of making another gangster movie until a draft of the book Wiseguy landed on his desk. The book told the story of Henry Hill, a real-life gangster who ratted on some of the most senior members of the Mob at the time, entering himself and his family into the Witness Protection Scheme for just over a decade. Scorsese developed the screenplay with the author of Wiseguy, Nicholas Pileggi, changing some of the characters’ names to give them room to flesh out and alter some of the stories. Where things weren’t quite true to life for the characters, the stories were still based on real experiences and tales that the cast and crew had heard.

Courtesy of: Warner Bros.

Goodfellas came 17 years after Mean Streets, Scorsese’s critically acclaimed crime drama that focused on a small-time member of the Mob and his eventual downfall. A story of Mob life on a far smaller scale than Goodfellas, it was also one of Robert De Niro’s first major roles. While his character, “Johnny Boy”, has far more in common with Taxi Driver‘s Travis Bickle than with Goodfellas’ Jimmy Conway, Mean Streets is a great early example of Scorsese dipping his toes into documenting Mafia life and a fantastic precursor to Goodfellas. His famed slo-mo panning shots and long takes are already in full flow here, something that would become a distinctive trademark of his.

Mean Streets is a truly gritty look at the lower rungs of the Mob, with men risking their lives carrying out menial tasks and collecting money for those far higher up than them. Harvey Keitel leads, as small-timer Charlie; the character is surprisingly kind-hearted and perhaps not entirely sure that this is the right path for him. He lives in a squalid apartment with an elderly relative, at a time when New York was far from just being rough around the edges. The city is dangerous and seedy, and these men are at the bottom of an incredibly large food chain. Goodfellas, on the other hand, is the ultimate high that follows the lows of Mean Streets. It’s about being completely seduced by the whole lifestyle and the glamour. Hill (relative newcomer Ray Liotta) is swept up by the money, brotherhood, and women that he finds himself surrounded by from a young age. He goes out of his way to please Jimmy Conway (De Niro), getting involved with bigger heists and hits, until he starts dealing his own drugs on the side.

Courtesy of: Warner Bros.

As the viewer, it’s incredibly easy to find yourself swept away by it all too. Chronicling Hill’s life from the 1950s to the 1980s, Scorsese creates a sweeping epic, painting the richest picture of Mafia life. He introduces a wealth of colourful minor characters, making you feel like you’re really part of their world for just a short while. Scorsese’s attention to detail throughout is extraordinary—from the interior design of the characters’ homes, the bars and restaurants they own, the clothes they wear, the cars they drive—the opulence of it all is incredible. The below scene in which Henry takes Karen out on a date is not only a technical masterpiece from Scorsese, but perfectly encapsulates how mad everything here seems to someone on the outside.

While this may be a heavily male-dominated film, Lorraine Bracco earned herself an Oscar nomination for the role of Hill’s wife, Karen. Volatile and put-upon, Karen finds herself seduced by Hill and his glamorous lifestyle, turning a blind eye to his line of work at first and eventually getting involved with his drug dealing. Bracco completely holds her own on screen despite being surrounded by some real heavyweight male actors; there’s never any doubt that she is the strongest of them all.

The cast as a whole is glorious, and in Joe Pesci’s case as Tommy DeVito, absolutely terrifying. His iconic “funny how?” scene is really the tip of the iceberg when it comes to his character, as he becomes more and more unhinged as the film progresses. While Hill is trying to work his way up the ladder and earn the respect of those around him, he’s constantly kept on his toes by DeVito’s unpredictable nature. Even in the most ordinary of moments, such as the guys sitting around playing cards, DeVito manages to bring everything crashing down around them—killing a young waiter for answering him back. His character is a key player in maintaining the adrenaline rush that kicks in at the start, keeping everyone around him, and the viewer, on the edge of their seats. DeVito is the perfect example of someone that has experienced too many highs and had things far too good for far too long, with not many people willing to say “no” to him. It’s an incredible performance and unsurprisingly bagged Pesci the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

Courtesy of: Netflix

When you reach the highest of highs detailed in Goodfellas, inevitably, the low must follow. In 2019 came Scorsese’s much-anticipated epic crime drama The Irishman. Described at length as a sequel “in spirit” to Goodfellas, Scorsese adamantly denied that this would be the case. With De Niro and Pesci reunited, it’s easy to see why, at first glance, this could be considered as some kind of sequel—but the two films have a very different tone. Based on the book I Heard You Paint Houses, The Irishman centres on Frank Sheeran, a real-life mobster who was known for “painting houses”, that is, being a hitman. Here he looks back on his life, told in much the same way as Hill does in Goodfellas, but this is instead from the perspective of an elderly man in a care home. This is not the bragging of a younger man; it’s the sad reminiscence of a man who lives long enough to see his world fall apart. Sheeran may still be very direct, but his tone is gentle and sad, as he remembers his younger days and the hits he carried out.

While there is still a huge amount of brutality and gruesome deaths on display in The Irishman, Scorsese also implements onscreen text that describes the date and cause of death for each Mob character who is introduced. This simple stating of the facts is also how Frank Sheeran addresses death in his later life; always in a very matter-of-fact way, as something unavoidable and, in most cases, lacking in any kind of emotion. The only regret that he seems to have is that his actions unjustly lost him his family. There’s a real sadness felt towards the end of The Irishman as the realities of old age creep up on the men. While Sheeran and Russell Bufalino (Pesci) were both murderers who apparently showed very little remorse, it’s still hard to see the loneliness and inevitability of death set in. Scorsese hints at Sheeran trying to make peace with God, and the final shot of him sat alone in the care home will stay with you for a while after.

Courtesy of: Warner Bros.

30 years on, Goodfellas revels in life as the middle sibling. It may also be the story of a man looking back on his life—but there’s ultimately no real sympathy felt by or for Henry Hill. He’s brash and unapologetic about his actions, safe and sound in Witness Protection in some sunny location with his wife and kids, and his only regret is that he’s lost his glamorous lifestyle. There’s no mention of anyone that he’s killed, no mention of guilt about working as an informant, he just wants to be able to order “decent” food and to have everything that he’s left behind: “I’m an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.”