A masterpiece on human self-destructiveness.

When I saw it for the first time, Maradona immediately came to mind. Jake La Motta and Diego Maradona are two sides of the same coin: two men who could have made their lives a triumph, but who instead did everything to destroy their friendships, careers, and families.

Certainly less "extreme" than "Taxi Driver," and perhaps for this reason less fascinating to many, but no less profound; indeed, perhaps more important, because it concerns us more closely.

If it is true, in fact, that there is a Travis in each of us (as Scorsese suggests in "Taxi Driver"), it is also true that those who bring out this sick part of themselves are very few – fortunately.

Instead, who among us has never committed some self-destructive act in their life, hurting a friend or a brother with a word too many that "they knew they shouldn’t say," etc. etc. etc. Self-destructiveness accompanies us all – whether we admit it or not.

Obviously in La Motta, this self-destructiveness was pathological, and it has its worst representation at the moment he stupidly allows Sugar Ray Robinson to beat him up. In that scene, there is not only a man insanely insecure who wants to show others that he is stronger than he really is, but there is also the unconscious desire to self-punish, maybe using someone else to achieve this goal. A scene from the annals of psychological cinema.

But La Motta's madness doesn’t stop there. Jake is also paranoid. The scene I love the most is the one with the broken television. The boxer, a month later, has to defend the title, and instead of being in the gym training, he’s there "eating like a pig" (a sign that, in fact, he wanted to lose the title, even if he would never admit it in words). The wife kisses the brother, and there begins, with Joe Pesci, one of the best “one on ones” I have ever seen in a movie. His paranoia is almost reasoned, calm, but truly hopeless. Due to the paranoia, and his big mouth, he manages to lose even the love of a brother who literally adored him.

A few scenes later, in the bathroom, when Jake breaks the door, the wife reveals what fuels his self-destructiveness and paranoia: "You are selfish and mean."

Extraordinary Robert De Niro - truly fantastic in the scenes where he stays silent for a few seconds, giving in to his paranoid fantasies, before starting with his rationally absurd questions.

Even today, I hear people say that De Niro, in this film, is exceptional, especially for the weight gain, and for his (indeed excellent) way of boxing.

But De Niro, here, is even more than a boxer and an actor. After buying the book rights, he wrote the screenplay with Scorsese. It is said that his contribution was greater than Martin's. Thus, Bob deserves praise also as a screenwriter.

Wonderful Joe Pesci, a brother everyone would want to have. Hard to believe he is the same one who played the psychopathic criminal roles in "Goodfellas" and "Casino." Magnificent the voice-over by Tiberio Timperi - who the following year would dub Pelé in "Escape to Victory," and unfortunately would never again dub our charming gigolo, who instead is of an enchanting sobriety in this film.

But "Raging Bull" is more than a film. After the failure of "New York, New York," Scorsese had plunged into drug addiction. De Niro used this screenplay to give him something to do, and as the director said: "making this film saved my life." One more reason to love it.

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Other reviews

By dennigi

 "You didn’t knock me down... did you hear, Ray!?!? You didn’t knock me down."

 "Raging Bull is not a hagiographic reconstruction but a deeply personal parable of survival and self-crucifixion."


By VU

 One can certainly debate the realism of the fights, but from all other perspectives, the film is impeccable.

 The black and white makes this film even greater than it would have been in color.


By Kenny.Club

 Raging Bull is the raw and violent mosaic of Jake La Motta, where each tile finds its natural place.

 De Niro’s interpretation materializes in an identification with the part that leads him to build a boxer’s physique, to then gain thirty pounds, risking in fact serious breathing problems.


By Poldojackson

 The greatest boxing movie of all time (so they say, and so do I) doesn’t just happen by a stroke of luck.

 Raging Bull isn’t really a movie about boxing. We see the man, half-animal, we see America between the 40s and 70s.