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Raging Bull is essentially Martin Scorsese capturing lightning in a bottle. If the golden era of an American renaissance, responding to the Nouvelle Vague, began in 1967 with Bonnie and Clyde, then a sense of fin de siecle can be attached to Raging Bull in 1980, victim to the wide release strategies of the majors and the dumbing down of mainstream film to cater for little more than juvenile tastes. During that time we were gifted with thoughtful, intelligent and visceral filmmaking from major studios, with auteurs like Coppola, Benton, Altman, Allen, Friedkin, Ashby, Pakula, Pollock, Bogdanovich, Rafelson et al, and right in the middle was Scorsese, a ball of enthusiasm and a walking encylopedia of movies. Central to the success of Raging Bull is Scorcese’s relationship with his lead actor Robert De Niro, echoing Kazan’s with Brando in On The Waterfront, and the result is just as powerful, eliciting a performance in the very front ranks of all cinema. De Niro seemed to carry stardom uneasily in the ’70’s, taciturn and suspicious he reacted against the weight of expectation triumphs like Godfather II and Taxi Driver carried with them, Scorsese taps into this angst as it’s a big part of the psychological make up of Jake La Motta, the Bronx Raging Bull.

After a beautiful slow motion sequence of Jake dancing around the ring in his prime to open the film we are presented with La Motta’s fall, the fat and pathetic nightclub clown of 23 years later. What happened? We flashback to 1941 and a Jake struggling to make his own way in the fight game,
his independence and refusal to be in the pocket of the mob means he won’t get a title shot easily. His brother Joey (Joe Pesci) is recruited by Sal (Frank Vincent) to bring Jake into the mob grip, Jake will have none of it. All Jake wants from Sal is his gorgeous blonde girlfriend Vicki (Cathy Moriarty). Jake’s marriage is on the rocks as he’s completely combative with her but treats Vicki like she’s a porcelain doll, the duality in him a theme that reappears again and again. Jake fight Sugar Ray Robinson, considered by most judges to have been the best fighter ‘pound for pound’ of the 20th century, and wins, then again 3 weeks later and loses in a hotly disputed decision, building towards a title shot. In the sweetest sequence in the film we see Jake and Vicki wed in colour home movie footage, kids arrive and he seems happy at last, a title shot only a matter of time now.
Jake’s jealous streak again surfaces as they encounter Sal and the Tommy (Nicholas Colasanto) the local mob Godfather at a nightclub. Vicki has mentioned a new fighter, Janiro, and how attractive he is, Jake tells Tommy he’ll beat him until his mother wishes she’d never had him. The fight that should cement his title shot sees Jake beat Janiro senseless and Scorsese spares us nothing in showing the blood and pain involved. Tommy quips of Janiro, ‘He ain’t so pretty now’. This is the petty motivation Jake needs to unless the beast within it seems.

The pivotal event in Jake’s career is not the winning of the title, it’s the fight he has to throw to get there, like Terry Malloy before him, he has to take a dive for the mob, his soul sold in the process. He is so unconvincing in throwing the fight he’s banned by the boxing commission for 2 years. Of the many memorable scenes in this film, the one in the dressing room after the thrown fight where Jake cries like a baby is right at the top, De Niro unleashing shame and regret, hinting at the self-loathing that will eventually undo every personal relationship he values. The title bout is sandwiched between two scenes of jealousy and mis-trust, indicating that champion or not it is not in Jake’s nature to find happiness. There is a breathtaking continuous following shot out of the dressing room to the ring for the title fight, one of the best in any of Scorsese’s films and brings us out of the gladiatior’s room and into the colliseum. As champion we get no glamour and celebrity, we jump straight to a modest apartment where Jake is quizzing his brother about his and Vicki’s possible infidelities, and it leads to him brutally bashing them both. Eventually Jake is defeated by Sugar Ray in their 6th and final encounter, taking a terrible beating and Scorsese framing it in a way where Jake has seen this as a kind of deserved punishment for his sins. He retires to Miami and a life of sleazy nightclub gigs, his wife leaving him at last as the emptiness of his behaviour finally matches the environment he surrounds himself with.

Undoubtedly one of the great screen performances ever, De Niro is never less than commanding at every beat and turn, a mesmerising actor at the top of his game, like Jake on the title night. Equally impressive is Pesci as the brother, a superb performance with range and subtlety and a perfect foil for De Niro. Cathy Moriarty is lovely as the wife, even dressing as Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice (to satiate movie-lover Marty I suppose?!), and Scorsese handles the many character parts with ease and sympathy, all contributing to a realistic mileau for the film to be grounded in. Interestingly the fight over infidelity with his wife was with a best friend in real life, but the screenwriters combined that into Joey’s character for ease of narrative clarity. De Niro got into such good shape as a fighter La Motta opined he would be rated in the top middleweights of the day, but 3 months in Paris to stack on the weight for the later scenes put paid to that.

De Niro saw something in the unlikely source material, an as-told-to biography, and convinced both Scorsese and Paul Shrader, who wrote Taxi Driver, to get involved in bringing La Motta’s story to the screen. From the opening title sequence it’s indicated we are hardly in Rocky Balboa territory, but somewhere closer to an art film, the Mascagni soundtrack, sourced by Robbie Robertson with the serendipitous reverb reflection only error, creates a haunting accompaniment. Thelma Schoomaker edits like a virtuoso pianist, transforming the brutal boxing scenes into an elaborate visual ballet with the musicality of the rythyms. Cinematographer Michael Chapman did what James Wong Howe did years earlier in Body And Soul and shot the ring scenes on rollerskates, giving them fluidity and intimacy. Scorsese had the technical ability of Hitchcock, married to an Italian neo-realist sensibility to achieve the depths of connection here, he also seemed to understand that for the masses that followed the fight game in the 40’s the ‘sweet science’ may have been the closest thing they would get to a work of performance art.

All of Scorseses strengths came together at the right time for this film, his intuition into the duality and animalistic nature of the Italian-American masculine culture he grew up in, and it’s contradictory impulse to sentiment and sensitivity also. His love of movies was never more well used, all of the great black and white fight films from the 40’s and 50’s are pulsing in his veins, giving force to his every directorial punch and even spilling out on the ropes in slow motion in a film that will be remembered as the greatest of all fight films, and one of American cinema’s enduring classics.

What makes Raging Bull as brilliant as it is is the film’s brutal and silent honesty. On the outside of Raging Bull, it’s imagery gives the feel of a boxing movie and that’s obviously true with the themes, but I believe that’s just the backdrop. In the whole course of the movie there are only 10 minutes of boxing. The chosen character of the study is performed to divine perfection by one of the greatest screen-actors of all-time and my personal favourite actor Robert De Niro. His performance is undoubtedly the most powerful of the entire decade. He portrays the character with as much aggression, love and fear than you would expect. It’s a truely remarkable watch just for that one performance. But it’s not just De Niro’s performance that makes it memorable. Joe Pesci is flawless as the younger brother and so is Cathy Moriarty as his long suffering wife. Scorsese’s direction is as powerful and moving as ever and his screenplay is just remarkable to listen to. It’s a truely masterful piece of writing that will go down in history for it’s portrayal of emotions. The Academy-award winning editing is quite simply beautiful. Just the shots of the wet sponge on De Niro’s face make it more than worth the while. It’s dignified and it makes the film feel more like a documentary than a biopic in itself. This for me is the finest pairing between De Niro and Scorsese. It’s a heart-wrenching masterpiece and it should go down as one of the finest movies ever made. I love it.

La biographie de Jake La Motta portée sur grands écrans par Scorsese. Semi-échec commercial, boudé par les Oscars (hormis l’acteur De Niro et le montage) et une réputation qui tardera à se faire, mais qui est désormais bien inscrite dans les mémoires collectives. Bien avant d’être un film de boxe, c’est une oeuvre sur l’être humain atteignant la gloire avant de connaitre une lente chute aux enfers et de pouvoir trouver la rédemption. La Motta n’a pas eu une vie facile et Scorsese s’en donne à coeur joie pour nous montrer toutes les différentes émotions, le caractère difficile, ses relations avec son frère et sa femme de La Motta. Pour l’incarner, il fallait un acteur de talent et c’est De Niro qui a été choisi. Très justement récompensé, l’acteur vit son rôle, se transcendant et nous offrant un jeu parfait. Nombre de ses répliques ou actions sont cultes. Et Scorsese propose une réalisation remarquable, avec des combats tout simplement grandioses, grâce à cette caméra placée constamment dans le ring, nous donnant l’impression d’être nous-même au coeur d’un combat. Une mise en scène proposant de vrais instants magiques. La Motta ou l’histoire d’un homme dont le combat n’était pas toujours sur le ring.

A film has the ability to move us not just through the story it’s telling, but by the way in which it tells the story. The technical means a filmmaker follows to convey a film’s message is often overlooked, for it can make a tremendous difference is an audience’s reaction. Few films provide as many examples of such as Raging Bull, made during Hollywood’s Post-Classical Era.

What may be most noteworthy in the film is Martin Scorcese’s use of slow-motion. The main character, Jake La Motta, leads a tumultuous personal life during and after his boxing career. A key element to his personality is his distrust of people, and his tendency to overanalyze the slightest detail of another’s words or actions to a point at which he eventually views it as a threat.
One of the film’s key moments is when Jake and his entourage, which include his wife Vicky and brother Joey, are in a hotel room and in walks Tommy, the local mob boss. At this point in the film, the audience is well aware of Jake’s jealousy toward other men regarding his wife. When Tommy is about to leave, Vicky asks him to wait so she can get up and give him a casual kiss good-bye.
Scorcese then cuts to an inquisitive Jake before cutting back to Vicky, which tells the audience that Jake is focusing on his wife. The camera follows her to where she meets with Tommy and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Within the frame now is Vicky on the left, Tommy on the right, and Joey in between them. After cutting once more Jake, Scorcese enters slow-motion. The camera focuses on Joey’s hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder before cutting to Tommy giving Vicky another kiss, this time on the lips. After the kiss and the two withdraw from each other, the camera is left focusing on Joey, who is smiling up at Tommy before staring at Vicky. The camera then cuts back to Vicky who is also smiling, one of the few times she does throughout the film.
At this point the audience is aware of Jake’s feeling of isolation from the other three. Scorcese puts special focus on displays of affection between the three of them, projecting the idea that they are enjoying a happiness that does not include Jake. Moreover, the cut back to a smiling Vicky conveys the message that she in particular is enjoying a happiness without Jake, which undoubtedly feeds his jealousy.
This is one of two moments throughout the film in which, as Valerie Orpen writes in ‘Film Editing: the Art of the Expressive’, “slow-motion becomes terrifying for it allows us into Jake’s deranged mind by dwelling on insignificant details and blowing them out of proportion.” This technique also marks a distinction from films of the Classical Hollywood era. In films of that period, it would have been more common to convey concern or obsession in a character through the use of dramatic music. In Raging Bull, music is seldom used.
While slow-motion is used in many instances throughout the film, what is worth noting is that many of these moments occur in scenes outside of the boxing ring. This suggests that Jake’s experience as a boxer has heightened his senses to the extreme. He has trained himself to always be on the look-out for the slightest hint of danger, and is therefore an ultra-sensitive human being in a world two or three paces behind him. For that reason, he never misses a detail with respect to what somebody says, the way they say it, or the way they look at him.

The character of Jake La Motta is one for whom the audience gradually loses more and more respect as the film progresses. Yet after the scene in which he beats up his brother and strikes his wife, we are aware of just what a monster he is capable of becoming. The following scene depicting La Motta’s final match with Sugar Ray, however, is one that truly stands out.
What is noteworthy is how artistically it demonstrates Jake’s self-punishment. At this point in the film, our contempt for Jake has reached its pinnacle; and yet so has his. The close-up of Jake leaning against the ropes, waiting for Ray to strike is almost iconic in the way that it illustrates his state of mind and emotion. The numb silence and Scorcese’s slow zoom allows the audience to fully witness and understand Jake’s sense of giving up and his willingness to accept the punishment he knows he deserves.
There is even a somewhat religious undertone to the scene. Jake is lying on the ropes as though he were some sort of sacrificial figure, standing before that of Sugar Ray. Ray, meanwhile, ominously looming in the shadows to the point which the audience only sees his silhouette, becomes Jake’s punisher— transcending the role of a man and becoming more of an idea. In this sense Ray becomes God, who seconds later smites the sinful yet accepting Jake. It is an exceptional example of successful lighting, slow-motion and zoom shots.
The editing in this scene breaks continuity after Ray delivers his second blow. He swings with his right fist, and then Scorcese cuts to Jake being hit from the left of the screen. Though it violates the rule of match-cutting, it works well with the moment. Orpen writes in her book that “the chaotic rhythm, conflicting graphics and subjective sound squarely align us with Jake. It is his experience, his distorted perception that we relate to on the screen…The montage is by no means realistic but it conveys a realism of perception: Jake’s dazed consciousness and Vickie’s/Joey’s pained (and fragmented, in Vickie’s case) vision.” The shots within the sequence not matching each other is intended to reflect Jake’s extreme disorientation; to project the idea of all those sins, having massed together to a point at which they can no longer stand, raining back down upon him in an overwhelmingly ferocious manner.
Though technically they both take place within the same scene, Ray about to strike La Motta and Ray actually striking La Motta are very much their own separate moments. The scene conveys Jake’s rise and of fall, or rather judgement and punishment. The use of slow-motion and shadows in those seconds before Ray strikes Jake mirrors the idea of judgement by some divine entity. The sense of divine comes through the change in lighting with respect to Sugar Ray. Within seconds he goes from being clearly seen in the light, to a mysterious figure which stands menacingly in the dark. At the same time, the noise of the crowd has diminished as Scorcese cuts back zooming in on Jake, defeated and standing openly before his almighty judge. What follows is the moment which depicts Jake’s punishment. It is a horrible penance of confusion and pain that he must fulfill; projected by Scorcese breaking continuity, limiting shot length to an instant and throwing in strange animal noises to accompany each of the shadowy figure’s blows.
The breaking of continuity once Ray begins attacking Jake marks a clear departure from the conventions of the Classical Hollywood Era, a time in which the 180 degree line was almost never crossed, as is done several times in this scene. As Orpen points out in her book, a violation of continuity occurs when blood spurts out from the left of Jake’s face, with the next shot showing the photographers being splattered from the left. The extreme violence in this scene counts for one other difference from Classical Hollywood tradition. While back then, a director might have shown little to no blood at all, Scorcese clearly wants to convey just how brutal this fight was. Ray unleashes himself on Jake and for the next few seconds, the camera shows Jake’s blood showering on his own legs, blood squirting from above his eye, blood squirting from his mouth, and finally, a horrible splash of blood onto the photographers in the crowd. This would have been a stark violation of Hollywood’s first self-regulating code of 1927, which states that gruesomeness and brutality ought to be treated delicately.

The theme of companionship plays a strong role in Raging Bull. It is interesting to note that the dynamic of Jake and Joey’s relationship seems to play a much more substantial role in the film than that of Jake and his wife. We see a great deal more of the conversations, for example, between Jake and Joey than those between Jake and Vicky. Though he has lost both his brother and his wife by the end of the film, it is the brother’s absence that clearly takes a greater toll on Jake. When Vicky finally decides to leave him, there is no clear feeling of concern on Jake’s part, he makes no effort to pursue her. Moreover, it is Joey’s departure that precedes his sad decline, not Vicky’s. By placing greater emphasis on the brothers’ relationship throughout the first half of the film, Scorcese effectively evokes in the audience a similar longing for Joey to that which Jake feels. This marks another break in convention from the Classical Hollywood Era, a time in which relationships were a prevalent theme in film if they were between a man and a woman, as in many of the period’s romantic films. Raging Bull is very much a love story of its own, one that exists in pure form between Jake and his brother.
A particularly striking moment in Raging Bull occurs in the middle of the film. Shortly before the fight with Billy Fox, we see a low-angle medium tracking shot of Jake and his brother walking along one of the corridors in the arena. As they walk, however, Jake has his arm around Joey while looking confidently ahead, with Joey looking down. We then hear a low rumbling of noise which gets louder toward the end of the take, its origin somewhat ambiguous. It sounds either like that of a train steamrolling above them or of the crowd from the following scene. Regardless, the fact that it gets louder while Jake and Joey walk down the corridor projects the idea that they are walking into the limelight or into something bigger than themselves, together as a team facing whatever challenges lie ahead.
It is striking from a technical standpoint mostly because the low angle effectively demonstrates confidence in Jake, who at this point in time is near the peak of his career. The inclusion of Joey in the shot with Jake’s arm around him is equally important. Whether the fact that Jake is looking ahead while Joey looks down was a decision by the actors or by Scorcese is undetermined. What is important is that it puts greater emphasis on the dynamic of their relationship. With his unwavering self-confidence, Jake gives off the impression that he is very much the driving force behind the team which the two of them make up. At the same time, Joey is looking down, which suggests that even during this period in which they are on the rise together, he maintains his composure and weariness, balancing out the gusto of his brother. The choice to include Joey in this shot reflects the idea that all of Jake’s success and confidence results from the support and guidance of his little brother. The moment suggests that they are in this plight together, and it more effectively illustrates the love they hold for each other.

When it comes to biopics, not many come better than Raging Bull. It is one of Martin Scorsese’s most meticulous and artistically significant films. Robert De Niro gives debatably his greatest performance. The story is told in a traditional way from the start and then transforms into a very different type of thing. The dialogue becomes more angry and destructive, much like the character of Jake LaMotta. This makes you trly get the sense of who he was as a person and where he came from. I think presenting the film in back and white makes it a product of when LaMotta was big and when movies meant more than just entertainment. It takes older boxing movies like Somebody Up There Likes Me and honors their style and sense of what made the story powerful.

This is certainly one of De Niro’s best performances. Also Marty is in top form. Very interesting use of sound and slow-mo in the film as well. Joe Pesci and Cathy Moriarty were also superb. I don’t think I’ve seen a better performance from Pesci now that I think about it. I found the film to be very intense. While I wouldn’t say I loved the film, I certainly liked it a lot. Besides, I hear it gets better with each viewing.

I wouldn’t have thought that I’d like a biopic about a boxer so much, especially a bastard underdog like Jake La Motta; a guy that no one should really root for, a guy that doesn’t really deserve the love of a beautiful little blond, a guy with just so many problems. I wanted him to be the best, I wanted him to have the best, but hitting women, but it was hard, even when he would break down and get everyone around him to fold and become as emotional as he was, I didn’t know how long I should want him to succeed. Scorsese did an amazing job (as he does with everything) in getting me to confuse my morals with my natural want to root for the protagonist. Along with the amazing score and beautiful cinematography, this film was clearly destined to be a classic.

The story of real-life boxer Jake LaMotta, Raging Bull is a tough, uncompromising story of one man’s rise and fall and subsequent hard won redemption. LaMotta, played by Robert De Niro in his greatest performance, is depicted as a sensualist so plagued with personal demons that he is almost reduced to the level of an animal. Made following Scorsese’s near death after years of self-destructive behavior, it’s one of the most rawly visceral films ever made, shot with an incredible visual flourish in rich black and white. Combine this flair with De Niro’s incendiary performance and one of the best screenplays ever and you get not only the best film of this decade, but one of the best American films ever made.

There’s something both repulsive and likable about Jake LaMotta in this film. He abuses women, but cries in a jail cell. we don’t get any insight into why he is the way he is, or whether or not the paranoia he holds against others is even justified, which provides a truly unbiased, raw, and honest portrayal of an individual who is ultimately as susceptible to his internal emotional vices as anyone else. Its also interesting to see how his attitudes both shape and are shaped by his brother. Worth checking out.