Scarface (1983)What is the American dream? Is it wealth? Is it security? Is it love? What is the cost, and can you put a price on it? Is it something which is open to anyone, or is it the great illusion, the shadows cast upon the walls of the cave we dwell within, the lie fed to us from the stories we see in the movies, the Hollywood mirage? Does the pursuit of happiness end up resulting in our own ruination? These are the greater questions which dominate the epic tale of ambition and capitalist ascendance in Brian De Palma's Scarface, a modern remake of the classic gangster film by Howard Hawks of the same name.
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From the very onset of the film, the opening titles set the stage: in 1980, Fidel Castro opened his prisons and sent the "dregs" of his prisons to us, the footage of this event in the midst of the ever-present tensions with Cuba is combined with the pulse of Giorgio Moroder's haunting score to give us a new vision of the American dream, a dark and cynical one, where anyone can rise to power, but at what cost? It would be abjectly wrong to say that Tony Montana (Al Pacino) is our "hero" of the piece; he is a "political prisoner" in his own words, but it is also revealed that he has had an infamous criminal past through his own actions, and the allusions to his past from his mother and others who know make this evident, not to mention his own criminal savvy. Although he claims that his family is dead to the immigration officers he deals with at first, we discover that this is a lie; Tony claims he always tells the truth...even when he lies, but this is also just another deception; Tony is playing a part, even if that part is himself. Tony recalls that he learned English from guys in the movies like Bogart and Cagney--from gangster movies--which has given him a particular view of what he wants to be when he "grows up", a larger than life version of "Tony Montana", one who selfishly pursues his image of himself and what he wants in life--the world...and everything in it. Hollywood has molded his perceptions of family, wealth, masculinity to the point where you might wonder what the real "Tony Montana" is beyond the image, beyond the suits he wears, his style being the embodiment of his self, the manifestation of his ego. Tony's idealized view of himself is also reflected in his sister, Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio), whom he puts on a virginal pedestal, and cannot bear the thought of her getting mixed up in his crazy world of violence, sex, and drugs. It would be easy to assume that he harbors incestuous feelings for Gina, but the more likely scenario is that he sees himself in Gina--he even comments when he sees her again, after a period of five years has passed, that she has eyes like him; he is so obsessed with himself that he wants her to remain as some kind of pure facet of his own image to maintain a sense of control and composure over his already shaky semblance of self. In that same sense, he desires Elvira (Michelle Pfeiffer), the mistress of his initial druglord employer, Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia). Elvira represents not only a prize which he seeks to win to prove to himself that he is a "tiger", but there is a kind of animal magnetism in her straightforwardness, a quality Tony values, perhaps the one real thing which attracts him to her, aside from her elusiveness. Elvira represents one more piece for him to collect in his odyssey to acquire, his pursuit of a better and bigger world...always expanding, growing. This skyward mobility is what also attracts Tony to Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar), a Bolivian drug emperor who impresses Tony with his achievements and wealth, who also provides a window for Tony to reach higher than he would under Frank's small-time regime. With Sosa, Tony can put his real talents to use as a purveyor of cocaine--his knowledge and expertise--which elucidates that his begrudging accomplice, Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham), is out of his depth in this real-time drug business. (Humorously by comparison, Tony also shows his humble roots when the finger bath is presented after his and Sosa's meal, and he begins to gnaw on the lemon wedge.) But ultimately, this shows that while Tony's drive is so fierce, he is continuously regarded as an employee, a servant to those who would position themselves in a status elevated away from him. Just as Omar and Frank try to keep Tony in "his place", so does Sosa and his high-ranking cronies later--albeit in a more genial way. This is because with Tony, these other "capitalists" recognize Tony's spirit, his aggressive pursuit of power and wealth; capitalism hinges on the idea that the hard working excel...and if Tony works harder than them, they know that he will surpass them. Scarface is in many ways both a satire and parable of capitalism, of the modern American work structure. Capitalism is war with one another, so Tony takes this step further and makes literal war and violence against those who stand in his way of success.
Does Tony's ambition give him any real satisfaction? Or is he just driven to achieve out of a sense of compulsion, his own view of the American way? When Tony comes to America, he give an impassioned speech to the immigration office about how terrible communism is, being told what to think, what to feel...eating octopus every day, working all day and owning nothing. Tony has seen the perils of an economy dictated by the government, where individual achievement is squashed under the weight of the state's will; but does capitalism fare any better for Tony, when his speedy rise to power results in just as speedy of a nosedive? After Tony has achieved a level of wealth few can ever hope to reach, is his quality of life actually any better, or is it just more stylish? Crime or no, his wealth puts him in the arena of dealing with games of high finance, where he is now the one out of his element, and ends up getting screwed by white collar criminals masquerading as bankers, when not long before, he was balking at the idea of cutting in a corrupt detective on his take for ultimately the same purpose: security. For all the risky moves Tony has made, it is security which is the thing he spends a vast amount of his fortune upon, because he has been steeped in paranoid terror--rightly so after the hyper-violent incidents which led him to his palatial destination. When Elvira points out to him that it would have been better if someone had simply given him all of his money, that he would have been a better person as a result, this is debatable--would Tony have ever been a "good person", or even really "better"? What is unsaid--but apparent--is that his fortune has turned him into the same kind of people he had coldly regarded as soft, people like Frank, barking orders, yammering on about money, and stuck in legal entanglement and passing off big bribes to stay afloat. Tony was probably never good, but his excess doesn't make him any better. The "rising star" story of Tony Montana has other parallels with Hollywood, with Tony as the star of his own drama. Key moments like his unfortunate and risky drug exchange with the Colombians begins with him and Hector playing their cards close to the chest, and Tony--frustrated--indicates that maybe he should "come in and start again", as though they were both playing a scene. The Babylon club is bedecked in stage lights, and even DEA agents pose as money launderers, sharing gossip about their networking with film stars like Marlon Brando. Between Omar, Frank, and Sosa, they all seem to be just differing rungs on the ladder to stardom; even Tony's best friend, Manuel "Manny" Ribera (Steven Bauer) is not only a conscience for Tony, but almost like his agent later on, whom Tony abjectly ignores, being the prima donna of the Miami drug trade. Tony's case against communism is subverted by himself as the film progresses, since his wealth has only made him miserable. His rise is a reflection of American excess, of our own society's way of absorbing the world's wealth--of resources, of culture, even language--but being unable to put it into context. When Tony throws the story Frank told him about a haza back in his face--the Yiddish word for "pig"--claiming that it is a story about a "pig that don't fly straight", he bungles the metaphor trying to intimidate Frank with his own words, because it sounds like a "tough guy" thing to say, oblivious to the anachronistic way he has used it. Though Tony rails against the system which has made him a killer, he does little if anything to actually remove himself from it--he just gets better at it. His introduction to organized crime in America was as a result of him being employed by Frank to kill a Cuban refugee, since it is suggested Tony has experience in this kind of work by his hand tattoo. Should it then come as a surprise that when things turn sour, Frank sends assassins in the same fashion to deal with Tony? Frank views Tony as an employee, now and forever, and treats him like such; and so does Sosa, when Tony is offered a way to alleviate any chance of doing time in jail by facilitating the assassination of a diplomat who would attempt to shut down Sosa's drug empire. The realization for Tony is that he is regarded not as a colleague of the upper crust but still as just a hired killer, I think, is what rattles his resolve in New York--more than even killing a woman and two kids--when he is supposed to aid the actual assassin in his task, but turns the tables and kills the killer. Tony's real destruction comes not from a barrel of a gun, but from the profound pain of knowing that his vision of the American dream was wrong, that he has been caught in the cogs of the machine, trapped in the very system he has tried to control. His great proclamation of his character is ultimately to a restaurant of people who do not understand or care about his downfall. Tony's life is like an arrow, fired in a line, indifferent to the calamity his actions bring...or ignorant to it; he destroys everything he touches, just like his mother proclaims. The life of Tony Montana cuts a swath across the idea of what success in America is, a scar across the face of our social values, which says that anyone can achieve if you work hard--just what must be sacrificed in that pursuit is the real tragedy.
Recommended for: Fans of a fierce story of a man who desperately seeks the dream of reaching the stars, attaining that elusive idea of a better life, only to find that the cost is too high. Violent, intense, but also surprisingly sad, Scarface is a tale which is best for those who can appreciate the pangs of having reached for that tantalizing fruit of success, only to have suffered in the process.
Does Tony's ambition give him any real satisfaction? Or is he just driven to achieve out of a sense of compulsion, his own view of the American way? When Tony comes to America, he give an impassioned speech to the immigration office about how terrible communism is, being told what to think, what to feel...eating octopus every day, working all day and owning nothing. Tony has seen the perils of an economy dictated by the government, where individual achievement is squashed under the weight of the state's will; but does capitalism fare any better for Tony, when his speedy rise to power results in just as speedy of a nosedive? After Tony has achieved a level of wealth few can ever hope to reach, is his quality of life actually any better, or is it just more stylish? Crime or no, his wealth puts him in the arena of dealing with games of high finance, where he is now the one out of his element, and ends up getting screwed by white collar criminals masquerading as bankers, when not long before, he was balking at the idea of cutting in a corrupt detective on his take for ultimately the same purpose: security. For all the risky moves Tony has made, it is security which is the thing he spends a vast amount of his fortune upon, because he has been steeped in paranoid terror--rightly so after the hyper-violent incidents which led him to his palatial destination. When Elvira points out to him that it would have been better if someone had simply given him all of his money, that he would have been a better person as a result, this is debatable--would Tony have ever been a "good person", or even really "better"? What is unsaid--but apparent--is that his fortune has turned him into the same kind of people he had coldly regarded as soft, people like Frank, barking orders, yammering on about money, and stuck in legal entanglement and passing off big bribes to stay afloat. Tony was probably never good, but his excess doesn't make him any better. The "rising star" story of Tony Montana has other parallels with Hollywood, with Tony as the star of his own drama. Key moments like his unfortunate and risky drug exchange with the Colombians begins with him and Hector playing their cards close to the chest, and Tony--frustrated--indicates that maybe he should "come in and start again", as though they were both playing a scene. The Babylon club is bedecked in stage lights, and even DEA agents pose as money launderers, sharing gossip about their networking with film stars like Marlon Brando. Between Omar, Frank, and Sosa, they all seem to be just differing rungs on the ladder to stardom; even Tony's best friend, Manuel "Manny" Ribera (Steven Bauer) is not only a conscience for Tony, but almost like his agent later on, whom Tony abjectly ignores, being the prima donna of the Miami drug trade. Tony's case against communism is subverted by himself as the film progresses, since his wealth has only made him miserable. His rise is a reflection of American excess, of our own society's way of absorbing the world's wealth--of resources, of culture, even language--but being unable to put it into context. When Tony throws the story Frank told him about a haza back in his face--the Yiddish word for "pig"--claiming that it is a story about a "pig that don't fly straight", he bungles the metaphor trying to intimidate Frank with his own words, because it sounds like a "tough guy" thing to say, oblivious to the anachronistic way he has used it. Though Tony rails against the system which has made him a killer, he does little if anything to actually remove himself from it--he just gets better at it. His introduction to organized crime in America was as a result of him being employed by Frank to kill a Cuban refugee, since it is suggested Tony has experience in this kind of work by his hand tattoo. Should it then come as a surprise that when things turn sour, Frank sends assassins in the same fashion to deal with Tony? Frank views Tony as an employee, now and forever, and treats him like such; and so does Sosa, when Tony is offered a way to alleviate any chance of doing time in jail by facilitating the assassination of a diplomat who would attempt to shut down Sosa's drug empire. The realization for Tony is that he is regarded not as a colleague of the upper crust but still as just a hired killer, I think, is what rattles his resolve in New York--more than even killing a woman and two kids--when he is supposed to aid the actual assassin in his task, but turns the tables and kills the killer. Tony's real destruction comes not from a barrel of a gun, but from the profound pain of knowing that his vision of the American dream was wrong, that he has been caught in the cogs of the machine, trapped in the very system he has tried to control. His great proclamation of his character is ultimately to a restaurant of people who do not understand or care about his downfall. Tony's life is like an arrow, fired in a line, indifferent to the calamity his actions bring...or ignorant to it; he destroys everything he touches, just like his mother proclaims. The life of Tony Montana cuts a swath across the idea of what success in America is, a scar across the face of our social values, which says that anyone can achieve if you work hard--just what must be sacrificed in that pursuit is the real tragedy.
Recommended for: Fans of a fierce story of a man who desperately seeks the dream of reaching the stars, attaining that elusive idea of a better life, only to find that the cost is too high. Violent, intense, but also surprisingly sad, Scarface is a tale which is best for those who can appreciate the pangs of having reached for that tantalizing fruit of success, only to have suffered in the process.