The Irishman feels like the last movie of Martin Scorsese’s career, and even though it won’t be, it will undoubtedly be forever held as a bastion of mafia filmmaking, and one of the director’s finest achievements ever. From the very first shot, you can tell Irishman is evoking something different from Scorsese’s past films, mirroring the kitchen scene from Goodfellas that was rife with a zest for life and youth, with a tracking shot of a retirement home, static and almost loveless. The Irishman is a tombstone for Martin Scorsese’s mob movies, and I mean this in the best way possible. The film embraces all the thrill and excess of the mob, but focuses and succeeds most in its portrayal of grief, regret and a lifetime of sadness that follows from that way of life. The last hour of The Irishman puts Robert DeNiro’s acting chops on fully display, showing us a haunting portrait of time, loneliness and the wound of a life lived full of sin, and misguided choices. The Irishman might not be Scorsese’s best film, but it often feels like his most personal, tackling the aging auteur’s most personal themes to perfection.