Raging Bull

Raging Bull

Martin Scorsese's brutal black-and-white biography of self-destructive boxer Jake LaMotta was chosen as the best film of the 1980s in a major critics' poll at the end of the decade, and it's a knockout piece of filmmaking. Robert De Niro plays LaMotta (famously putting on 50 pounds for the later scenes), a man tormented by demons he doesn't understand and prone to uncontrollably violent temper tantrums and fits of irrational jealousy. He marries a striking young blond (Cathy Moriarty), his sexual ideal, and then terrorizes her with never-ending accusations of infidelity. Jake is as frightening as he is pathetic, unable to control or comprehend the baser instincts that periodically, and without warning, turn him into the rampaging beast of the title. But as Roman Catholic Scorsese sees it, he works off his sins in the boxing ring, where his greatest athletic talent is his ability to withstand punishment. The fight scenes are astounding; they're like barbaric ritual dance numbers. Images smash into one another--a flashbulb, a spray of sweat, a fist, a geyser of blood--until you feel dazed from the pummeling. Nominated for a handful of Academy Awards (including best picture and director), Raging Bull won only two, for De Niro and for editor Thelma Schoonmacher. --Jim Emerson

Director(s): Martin Scorsese
Production: United Artists
  Won 2 Oscars. Another 22 wins & 26 nominations.
 
IMDB:
8.2
Metacritic:
89
Rotten Tomatoes:
95%
R (Restricted)
Year:
1980
129
4,904 Views

Jake:
I heard some things. Did Salvy f*** Vickie?

Joey:
What?

Jake:
Did Salvy f*** Vickie?

Joey:
Now Jack, don't start your sh*t.

Jake:
Joey, I asked ya. Didn't I ask ya to keep an eye on her?

Joey:
And I did keep an eye on her. Yes, I did.

Jake:
How come you give him a beatin'?

Joey:
I told you that. I told you what that was all about. That it had nothin' to do with you. He, he thinks he's a wise guy now.

Jake:
Joey, don't lie to me.

Joey:
I'm not lying.

Jake:
What do I look like to you, huh?

Joey:
Hey, I'm your brother. You're supposed to believe me. Don't you trust me?

Jake:
No, I don't.

Joey:
Oh, you don't? That's nice.

Jake:
I don't trust you when it comes to her. I don't trust nobody. Now tell me what happened.

Joey:
I told you exactly what happened. He got out of line, I slapped him around. Tommy straightened it all out, and it's all over.

Jake:
Don't you give me that look, Joey. I gotta accept your answer, you know. But I'm tellin' you now, if I hear anything, I swear on mother, I'm gonna kill somebody. I'm gonna kill somebody, Joey.

Joey:
Well, go ahead and kill everybody. You're the tough guy. Go kill people. Kill Vickie. Kill Salvy. Kill Tommy Como. Kill me while you're at it, what do I care? You're killin' yourself the way you eat. You're a fat f***. Look at ya.

Jake:
What d'ya mean? I don't understand. What d'ya mean, kill you? You?

Joey:
Me. Kill me. Start here. Kill me first. Do me a f***in' favor, 'cause you're drivin' me crazy.

Jake:
Excuse me, what d'ya mean by "you," though?

Joey:
So? What does that mean? It don't mean nothin'.

Jake:
You don't even know what you meant by "you."

Joey:
Don't mean nothin'.

Jake:
Joey, that meant somethin'. You mentioned Tommy, you mentioned Salvy, you mentioned you. You included "you" with them. You could have said anybody but you said "you" and them.

Joey:
You really let this girl ruin your life. Look at ya. She really did some job on ya. You know how f***in' nuts you are? Look what she did to you.

Jake:
You f***ed my wife?

Joey:
What?

Jake:
You f***ed my wife?

Joey:
How could you ask me a question like that? How could you ask me? I'm your brother. You ask me that? Where do you get your balls big enough to ask me that?

Jake:
Just tell me.

Joey:
I'm not answerin' ya. I'm not gonna answer that. It's stupid.

Jake:
You're very smart, Joey. You give me all these answers, but you ain't givin' me the right answer. I'm askin' ya again. Did you or did you not?

Joey:
I'm not gonna answer. That's a sick question, you're a sick f***, and I'm not that sick that I'm gonna answer it. I'm not tellin' ya anything. I'm going to leave. If Lenore calls, tell her I went home. I'm not stayin' in this nuthouse with ya. You're a sick bastard. I feel sorry for you, I really do. You know what you should do? Try a little more f***in' and a little less eatin'. You won't have troubles upstairs in your bedroom and you won't take it out on me and everybody else. Do you understand, you f***in' wacko? You're crackin' up! F***in' screwball, ya.


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