The Female Perspective on Martin Scorsese

BY NORA SHERMAN

AS EMBARRASSING as it is to admit, I am a film bro. I’m not proud of this part of me, but I’d certainly be lying to myself if I didn’t admit it. The truth is, anyone can be a film bro regardless of gender (I use “film bro” in a gender neutral manner), as long as they worship those specific pretentious, male-centered movies (you know the ones). Some of my favorites include The Social Network , A Clockwork Orange,

Parasite , etc. But don’t worry, not Pulp Fiction . I’m not that much of a cliche. But that’s not why I’m here. For years, I’ve put off watching so many highly worshiped films, such as a fat stack of Martin Scorsese films that I just never got around to seeing, including Goodfellas , Raging Bull and King of Comedy . And as much as I wanted to watch them in theory, I knew I would not be able to get my ass off of TikTok to do so. To my luck, Wesleyan’s renowned film department happened to offer a spring elective class dedicated to the work of the legend himself, Martin Scorsese, taught by Professor Marc Longenecker. This course would be the perfect solution to my problem: finally watching all the movies I’ve been putting off for years, while unapologetically embracing my inner film bro in a class filled with other closeted film bros.

I am currently taking this class now. From day one, I knew this class would suit my guilty pleasure, but the truth is, I didn’t know much about Scorsese prior to the course. I had only seen movies made later in his career, like The Departed , The Aviator, and The Wolf of Wall Street . I knew Marty was revered in the film world, but I didn’t know why. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint his distinct style as a director. What the fuck does The Departed , The Aviator , and The Wolf of Wall Street have in common besides Leonardo Dicaprio being the lead and the runtime being way too long?

In the beginning of the class, we watched the holy trinity of Scorsese films in this order: Mean Streets , Taxi Driver , then Raging Bull . Through these films, I began to figure out Marty’s style – gritty New York Italian-Americans, and a plethora of shitty male protagonists. During class, I realized that I wasn’t watching these movies as the film bro I thought I was… Instead, I was watching them through the lens of a young woman. It wasn’t funny to me when Travis Bickle took his date, Betsy, to a porno, or stalked her at her workplace while he screamed at her, “You’re going to hell!” I caught myself feeling scared for her while watching Taxi Driver.

In Raging Bull , I wasn’t terribly in awe of Jake La Motta’s dedication and passion for boxing. Instead, my heart went out to his wife, Vicky, who was constantly, both physically and emotionally, abused by La Motta throughout the film, and the abuse only got worse as the film went on. Sure, Scorsese does not necessarily portray La Motta’s paranoia in a positive light, but nonetheless his actions lack any real acknowledgement. In one scene, La Motta is so jealous that he does not let Vicky so much as talk to any other men in a restaurant. Moments like these stand out to me because they make me think about what I would do in that scenario; if I married a man who controlled my every move and limited my experiences and free will. I could feel her suffocation through the screen. One moment in Scorsese’s filmography that I found particularly troubling was in his first-ever feature film, Who’s That Knocking at My Door. A precursor to Mean Streets , and a relatively unknown Scorsese film, it showcases many of the themes he later becomes known for. In the film, Harvey Keitel plays JR, a tough guy who roams the streets of Little Italy, but has a backwards view of sexuality due to repression and the Catholic church. In one scene, JR lashes out at his girlfriend when he discovers that she is not the virgin he assumed her to be, due to an aggressive and upsetting rape. However, this fact does not change anything for JR, and he continues to feel entitled to lashing out at her. I couldn’t help but cringe while watching this scene. It’s bad enough JR slut-shames his girlfriend for not being a virgin, but the fact that he is so stuck in his traditional values that he could not make an exception for her because she was raped made the scene even more upsetting. The Scorsese psychopath is often created at the expense of innocent, kind women. It is moments like these that I found difficult to watch even if it is just fiction. Even if Scorsese himself isn’t outwardly condoning these behaviors, the actions his lead characters partake in deserve to be acknowledged for how cruel they are. If you identify as anything other than male, it’s hard not to notice how the women in his early films are treated by their male counterparts. Maybe as a man, you don’t think as hard about the sexism in these films, but as a woman, it’s a pretty hard thing to overlook because oftentimes you can’t help but imagine if this were to happen to you. And the truth is, it very well could, even fifty years later. Now, Scorsese is totally aware that his characters are not, and should not be, viewed as role models. He knows they’re not great people. They are violent, morally corrupt misogynists, and sometimes even full-on psychopaths. Something about Marty is that he finds the smallest ounce of humanity in these shitty characters, allowing the audience to still feel sympathy for them. But even so, what is it that draws him to depict characters that beat their wives, control who they are allowed to talk to, and have unrealistic standards for their virgin status? What is it that makes him want to portray shitty characters over and over again? What is even more concerning to me is the objective viewpoint in which he presents these characters. For instance, Raging Bull acts like an ethnographic case study on boxer Jake La Motta. We follow the story of his life, objectively and somewhat detached; a life where he happens to emotionally and physically abuse his wife (as well as other people who are close to him such as his brother played by Joe Pesci). But maybe it is much simpler than all that. Maybe he just thinks the psychology of these characters is intriguing, and he likes objectivity as a creative choice. I’ll never know for sure until I grab dinner with him.

Despite literally my entire essay, I want to make something clear: I’m not advocating for censorship. I am not saying that people can only make films if the protagonist isn’t flawed. In fact, I am all for depicting anti-heroes, especially those highlighting a range of complex human emotions. I just wanted to share the female perspective on these canonically important films. The problem isn’t necessarily the films themselves, it’s the lack of conversation around and acknowledgement of their prominent themes of misogyny. Oh, and by the way, it’s not just Scorsese. My favorite movie, like ever, is The Social Network , and it has by far the worst portrayal of female characters I’ve ever seen. But I still love it. Why? Maybe it’s because I unironically love Aaron Sorkin, or maybe it’s my internalized misogyny. Or maybe it’s both. My point is, we can have mixed feelings about our favorite movies, and we can still love them even if they are not perfect. I don’t even think there is such a thing as ‘the perfect movie’ (except for Dazed and Confused ). But to watch Raging Bull , Taxi Driver , or even Scorcese’s remake of Cape Fear and not get a twinge of discomfort for your fellow women in the audience would be just plain ignorant.