Jackson Ball continues our Al Pacino Retrospective with Scarface…
Some films are almost inexplicable watchable. Measured solely on their individual components – such as foul language, unrelenting gore and non-stop, start-to-finish intensity – these films ought to drive audiences away, or at least make them think twice about a second viewing. However, the ultimate sum of those components can result in a film that is so unashamedly gripping that it demands the audience’s attention, almost hypnotically, time and time again. Brian De Palma’s Scarface is one such film.
It is easy to forget that De Palma’s film is a remake; a retelling of sorts of the 1932 film of the same title. Fans of the original will recognise the same rise-and-fall narrative, however now it has been saturated with the bright lights and dark pastimes of 1980’s Miami. De Palma’s vision, combined with Oliver Stone’s script, pumps the story with equal measures of sex and violence and sprinkles the whole mixture with unfathomable amounts of cocaine.
The whole film embodies the term ‘excess’ in every sense of the word, and that is never more evident than in Al Pacino’s performance. As immigrant-come-drug lord Tony Montana, Pacino gives arguably his most potent and unyielding performance. Sure, you could argue there aren’t many ‘layers’ to Montana (he starts at rage and just gets angrier), but from the film’s opening shots to its iconic climax, Pacino mesmerizes.
Just eleven years after his precise and measured first turn as Michael Corleone in The Godfather, Pacino’s performance as Montana reaches the opposite end of the spectrum. Perhaps it is an example of the actor’s skill and ability that he is able to generate a performance that reflects the entire tone of each film (Godfather: subtle, restrained, and layered. Scarface: brash, intense and loud.)
Indeed, the ‘excess’ of Scarface transcends Pacino’s performance and is inherent in the contributions of the film’s other key players: Brian De Palma and Oliver Stone. De Palma’s direction effectively reflects the dizzying chaos of the story and era; the swirling camerawork and top-speed editing disorientate the audience to the extent that you feel as though you are on as big of a trip as Montana himself. All this whilst Stone’s screenplay manages to squeeze the odd coherent sentence in between the tidal wave of obscenities.
To sum up, Scarface’s keyword is certainly ‘excess’ (with ‘fuck’ probably being a close second). Despite the lack of moderation though, it remains inescapably consuming to watch. The film oozes bravado as often as it gushes blood, and in doing so has become a timeless treasure of modern pop culture.
For more on the Al Pacino Retrospective running at the BFI throughout February amd March, head here.
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Originally published February 14, 2014. Updated November 28, 2022.
