I'm haunted by DeNiro's face, as it watches things recede and disappear, not sure if the quiet despair is his projection as an actor, or my projection, looking back at increasingly fathomless memories, as I grow old. The Irishman seems a kind of swan song, not just for the talented ensemble -- Scorsese, DeNiro, Pacino, Pesci and Keitel -- but for looking at the past. It's over. America is no place for old white men. No value judgement: Just a fact.
But more, we ignored Ike's warning: he'd have been dismissed as a conspiracy theorist if he were alive today, saying the same thing. The MIC has won: we are in a virtual coup, with so much of the budget (and so much of that secret) delivered to the Masters of War in endless battle against Terror (Man's oldest nemesis), and the predators of Wall Street becoming the eyes on the pyramid schemes depicted on every dega dollar. Now there is the Deep State that Snowden says controls us all. We have a president, likened to a mobster (and familiar with mobsters depicted in Scorsese's film), and once having been sued under RICO for a scam. He is half-assedly befriended and legally protected by Rudy Giuliani.
If there's a black lining to this silver screen gem, it's that this might end up being one of Donald Trump's favorite films, despite the fact that it doesn't feature him in any way. But he'll be able to read between the lines and express fond reminiscing about broking power, him and Rudy working the postmodern mob.
But Lo! Lady Liberty with her torch was there a moment ago, but disappeared into that black Mack truck passing by, out of which no light can escape.
-30-
Joey
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