Should We Really GoSee ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’?

What I saw yesterday in a large theater off the coast of Normandy was fine, but I am not sure I made the right decision. Indeed, the names of the director and main actor — prestigious and enchanting enough, I must say — made me want to brave the icy temperatures and go see the film.

One might ask what Scorsese had envisioned — discrediting the U.S. stock market, symbolized by Wall Street, or engaging in a devastating critique of what defines success in the contemporary world: sex, alcohol, money and drugs?

We know the story: a young, middle-class American man, who decides to take his chances by dabbling in the stock market. Thanks to his great expertise as a stockbroker, he goes from working in a boiler room to being part of an empire that rests on nothing, if not on his know-how and charisma. He trains dozens of young men and women, helping them like a true philanthropist. A single mother, who is five months behind on paying her rent and therefore in danger of living on the streets with her child, is sent a check for $25,000, when $5,000 would have sufficed! Scorsese does not deny his hero’s central message — that money can change your life, opening horizons into the absolutely unimaginable. One example is the exchange between the wealthy stockbroker and two FBI agents who visit his luxurious yacht. This exchange is truly a symbol for the anthology: Casually, with an untouchable air, DiCaprio explains to an FBI agent who is poorly dressed, with a sloppy appearance and looking ill, what he could have had if he had switched trades. The questioning ends very badly, when the man, stung raw, asks his interlocutor to repeat word for word what he had just said, in the end, obviously, to record and implicate him for the attempted corruption of a federal agent, a charge about which the Americans do not joke. DiCaprio understands and hunts down the two intruders, insulting them thoroughly.

However, Scorsese spends too much time showing these golden boys’ addictions to alcohol, drugs and sex. The sex scenes are unusually profane, with countless blowjobs — any excuse to have orgies and pagan parties, where guests are literally rolling under tables, and even their staff emulates this. The millionaire couple comes back one day early and discovers that their luxurious apartment has been transformed into a brothel. The director wanted to illustrate the contagious effect that the masters had on their workers and their staff.

But that is not all: There are lessons that the heroes give to their disciples. He even speaks about teaching. Therein lies Scorsese’s fierce criticism against the system, a system that has become insane as a result of money losing its meaning in its excess and ease of obtainment. When the two FBI agents leave the yacht to the stock tycoon’s jeering, DiCaprio pours a rain of cash onto them, while simultaneously hurling insults. The symbolism is clear: FBI and law enforcement agents are mocked, poor, underdeveloped and hardly admirable. This criticism of the social ladder is fierce. Even the staff of the Department of Justice wear pitiful, gray suits from the past, white shirts that are so unwashed they appear gray and have wives who do not seem to have hairdressers …

There is the role of drugs, intricately linked to unbridled sexuality. A mentally retarded man begins by claiming that, without these two crutches, he could not do his everyday work normally, so he needs powerful stimulants …

However, there is also something else, which risks displeasing those on Lake Geneva: It is the pretended role given to Swiss bankers who help fraudulent Americans taunt the tax and justice systems in their country. The role of the corrupt banker, played by a famous French actor, is certainly eloquent. I wonder if Geneva residents will appreciate a film that taunts their banks to this point.

But of course, a moral is necessary. Well, this house of cards finally collapses, and DiCaprio loses everything — his family, money and honor. He is sentenced to imprisonment in a penitentiary in the middle of nowhere. In all of these scenes, the actor shows his sovereign and dominant skills, honed down to a perfect art. After serving his sentence, we find him on the other side of the world, where he gives in. He remembers his father’s advice: One day, you will have to clean up this mess.

However, it seems to me that we should go back to the last frame of the film: The same FBI agent appears on the screen, in a metro that is dirty and poorly maintained, his forehead wrinkled with fatigue from a back-breaking day of work and poor pay. He goes home at night, with a poor complexion, glancing at poor wretches, left out of the market economy.

And so, what to decide? — probably to not watch this film, where women are considered livestock or meat for pleasure and instead read a good book, a novel, for example.