‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ is still the embodiment of American greed

Martin Scorsese’s early work is undeniably cinematic excellence. It’s easy to log the early classics as Taxi driver (1976) and Raging Bull (1980) on Letterboxd with five-star reviews without losing any credibility. The consensus is strong and lasting, and to go against the grain decades later and argue that, say, Travis Bickle isn’t really one of the best fictional characters ever is foolish. But what about late-career works whose reputations aren’t as cemented in the culture? Is Gangs of New York (2002) still messy and unfocused, or is it a hugely ambitious grand sweep that deserves a reappraisal? The departed (2006) still the wrong Scorsese film to win the Oscars, or does it transcend its genre credentials and stand alongside the director’s undeniable gangster masterpiece, Good guys (1990)? What about Silence (2016), which has its admirers, but never really made a big impression? Or The Irishman (2019), a mournful elegy that, for this critic, ranks among Scorsese’s five best, but for most casual moviegoers, is simply too long, with distracting de-aging effects? And finally, the most divisive of them all, The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), a three-hour examination of American greed that was a box office success, but unfortunately for all the wrong reasons (people undoubtedly wanted its lead actor, Leonardo DiCaprio, to go wild). Several serious critics dismissed the film as an unsubstantiated portrait of excess.

Scorsese had a point, of course, his opponents just couldn’t see it. In a post-Trump America, it’s clear that The Wolf of Wall Street is only more prophetic as Scorsese explores the lengths people will go to for money and power. Based on the memoir by Jordan Belfort (Terence Winter wrote the screenplay), the film stars DiCaprio as the notorious stockbroker who made millions by ripping off investors. Despite being a period piece (the story takes place from the late 1980s to the early 2010s), it’s a chronicle of who we are right now that says more about American society than any other film of the 21st century. It’s about how money still talks, how the system that makes people rich is rife with corruption, and how those who control it are rewarded with more of what they already have. More money, more property, more access, and more beautiful women.

The Wolf of Wall Street offers no comforting moral lesson, which I think is why some were shocked by it. They yearned for justice and didn’t get it. At the end, we learn that Jordan’s crimes eventually caught up with him, but after cooperating with the FBI, he was given a reduced sentence of 36 months in a minimum-security prison complete with tennis courts and released after only 22 months. In the final, thought-provoking scene, a perfect conclusion that underscores why Scorsese chose to make the film, a recently released Jordan speaks at a sales seminar, positioned as an expert who can teach aspiring entrepreneurs how to succeed. “Sell me this pen,” Jordan says to an eager attendee in the front row. As the attendee struggles to deliver his pitch, Jordan moves on to another, and then another. Then the camera pans up to the rest of the audience watching with rapt attention, a captive crowd of people from all backgrounds desperate for the lesson. The final shot, one of the best of Scorsese’s career, tells us everything that’s wrong with the world. Jordan made millions by engaging in illegal activities, but that doesn’t matter to the audience at the seminar. The fact that he made millions at all is enough to earn him respect in their eyes. That they are a microcosm of the general public and that they reflect us, the audience watching the film, is not lost on Scorsese. We are all complicit, he says. And cowards.

The end of The Wolf of Wall Street is a clever reference back to Good guys. After participating in organized crime, Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) is arrested by the FBI and pressured to become an informant. The final scene shows him in the Witness Protection Program, and his narration describes his frustrations. He has no regrets for his crimes. Instead, he misses out on the benefits of the criminal lifestyle. He says, “Today is different; there’s no action. I have to wait like everyone else. Can’t even get a decent meal. The minute I got here, I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce, and I got egg noodles and ketchup. I’m an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life as a schnook.”

In Henry’s eyes, the downfall is serious, but for the rest of us, it’s a slap on the wrist. Same goes for Jordan. How awful, they have to live like the average person!

In both Good guys And The Wolf of Wall StreetScorsese condemns the men. It’s impossible to watch the most harrowing scenes of domestic violence in the films and not see that. But he also condemns the American system that fails to punish their criminality fairly. The problem isn’t that Henry and Jordan don’t feel remorse for their actions. Why should they, Scorsese asks, if there are no significant consequences? If the worst-case scenario is that they end up where everyone else has — as average Joes forced to get a job and pay the bills — who wouldn’t cut corners to pursue the high life?

There was a lot of criticism during the initial release The Wolf of Wall Street was that Scorsese doesn’t spend any screen time on Jordan’s victims. It’s a genuine perspective that suggests that spending too much time with Jordan and his friends at a party makes them glamorous. Is Scorsese running the risk of making Jordan’s lifestyle palatable? Shouldn’t we see the suffering he causes and leave the film wanting to avoid following in his footsteps?

The concerns are genuine, but ultimately they are rooted in a naive misunderstanding of the world. Jordan’s lifestyle is attractive and that’s part of the problem. Wall Street criminals take private jets while honest Americans have to take public transportation, a disparity that Scorsese wants to expose. In the film, he contrasts Jordan’s lifestyle with that of FBI agent Patrick Denham (Kyle Chandler), the lawman who handles his case. In one of the standout scenes, Denham and Jordan meet for the first time on Jordan’s yacht, and Jordan rubs Denham’s face with all the luxuries Denham misses out on as a government employee. Jordan even tries to seduce Denham with subtle bribes, but Denham flatly refuses. It’s clear that Denham is choosing a law-abiding path, but at what cost? Toward the end, he’s seen riding the subway home from work, and the exhausted look on his face as he observes the other commuters is haunting. Is this the reward for doing the right thing in America? Even after Jordan is released from prison, his lifestyle will likely be more extravagant than Denham’s, and he will earn more from a single public appearance than Denham makes in a year. The system isn’t fair, but it’s real. Why would Scorsese sugarcoat it?

As for the people Jordan hurt, Scorsese suggests that they—we—bear some responsibility for the fact that we were ripped off. This is what happens when we participate in get-rich-quick schemes, when we trust strangers with our hard-earned paychecks, when we invest in stocks because it’s easier than working and saving over time. The film is Scorsese’s brutal thesis on American greed. If you throw yourself into the wolf’s den, don’t be surprised if you’re swallowed whole.

Jordan is not Donald Trump, but the people who buy his books and attend his seminars are the same people who have put Make America Great Again signs on their lawns and say they will still vote for Trump in 2024, despite a series of false claims about his business and four criminal charges. Ten years later, Trump’s rise makes The Wolf of Wall Street even more relevant. When it came out, it was marketed as a comedy, and yes, several sequences are hilarious (the Quaaludes sequence is already iconic), but while the Jordans continue to rule the world, Scorsese’s cynical cry of despair hits too close to home to elicit laughs. Too many times now have we been angry and watched Wall Street steal and then stay in power without fundamentally changing the system. Jordan hasn’t gone anywhere, and working people across the country are still stuck on crowded, sweaty public transportation, wondering when they’ll make it to the private jet. They won’t, Scorsese says, unless they learn how to navigate their own way, and push their fellow man down in the process. There’s no shortage of lessons to be learned on this. Last year, on November 1, Jordan visited Barnes & Noble in Manhattan to sign copies of his new book, The Wolf of Investing: My Insider’s Guide to Making a Fortune on Wall Street. I bet it was a mess.

This message originally appeared on Medium and has been edited and republished with permission of the author. Read more of William Spivey’s work on Medium.