An essay on how Martin Scorsese‘s life was saved by Raging Bull, and how his experiences influenced the visual language of the film.
During the last few years of the 1970s, Martin Scorsese was struggling personally and artistically. After his big breakthrough in 1976 with Taxi Driver, Scorsese’s first big budget feature was the hometown musical, New York, New York. “A personal, backwards-looking tribute to the golden age of musicals” (as quoted from one of the few positive reviews by Richard Brody in The New Yorker), that received minimal box office returns and was poorly received by critics. The reception to New York, New York drove Scorsese into depression and his cocaine addiction became deadly serious. Despite falling into this lull, Scorsese continued making documentary films with The Last Waltz (1978) and American Boy (1978) before a rampage of wild partying ensued despite Scorsese’s crumbling health. It was then, potentially approaching death’s doorstep, where Robert De Niro practically saved Scorsese’s life by pushing him to kick the cocaine addiction and to make Raging Bull. Mark Singer of The New Yorker wrote in March 2000 that, “Scorsese was more than mildly depressed. Drug abuse, abuse of his body in general, culminated in a terrifying episode of internal bleeding. De Niro came to see Scorsese in the hospital and asked, in so many words, if he wanted to live or die. If you want to live, let’s make this picture - referring to Raging Bull, a film based on a book that De Niro had given him to read years earlier.” We all know where the story goes from here, but Raging Bull essentially becomes Martin Scorsese’s saving grace after a tough period for him. In a way it also exists as a film where Scorsese unleashed all those creative juices that were pent up and Jake La Motta ends up becoming the physical conduit for Scorsese’s mental and physical deterioration.
Raging Bull begins on the outside looking in of a boxing ring where La Motta is warming up. La Motta dances in the middle-ground and the ropes of the ring sit in the foreground. Presenting to us this image that speaks directly to the perspective we will have as the audience, along with presenting the idea that Jake La Motta is a prisoner to the ring. This is signaled to us within the first seconds of the film, and it’s pursued for the entirety of the film. After we get a glimpse of La Motta’s present-day life in the 1960s as a club owner who recollects on his days as a middle-weight contender through a seemingly impromptu poem reminiscing about the cheers, falls, and ringing of the ears, we are immediately yanked back to the 1940s in the middle of a fight. A fight where Jake La Motta loses his first matchup by unanimous decision to the hometown fighter, Jimmy Reeves. What’s important here is that Scorsese sets the stage for the rest of the film by building the energy of the auditorium and sounds within the ring, and by choosing to shoot in black and white it creates a very stark contrast for the in ring sequences. The ring, as it would, has all the spotlight on it, but it creates a contrast with the surroundings by making the background look like an empty void where indiscernible shrieks, hoots, and hollers come from. Cheering on the rampage of violence from either fighter, and it seemingly gives La Motta a surplus of energy as a fight breaks out amongst the stands as he lays into Reeves during the last round. This once again begins to reinforce what Raging Bull will pursue, and eventually tackle. Especially when an even bigger fight breaks out after La Motta’s loss, and the violence is pushed into the ring. Foreshadowing that reinforces no matter if it’s in the ring or out of, violence will find a way back into Jake’s life whether he’s the one inciting it or not.
This random outburst of violence signals an inherent part of La Motta’s D.N.A. in the following sequence at home with his girlfriend, and brother Joey. After facing his first loss he gets into a yelling match with his girlfriend over some steak and aggressively pushes her into the bedroom. Joey and Jake begin to converse about Jake’s future as a fighter, then Jake begs Joey to hit him in the face with his bare hands. This is the first instance outside of the ring where Jake is insistent that violence is something he wants as a part of his life. It defines him, gives him energy, gives him a boost of confidence that a mundane home life can’t. The yelling match and punishing blows from Joey look, sound, act, and are as chaotic as the scene prior. The scuffling of feet, crashing of a table, indiscernible screaming, and toned down chaos is emblematic of that life in the ring being a constant, inescapable reality, no matter the setting. Immediately after, it cuts to Joey and Jake properly sparring inside a boxing ring as a well-timed edit that speaks to the themes we’ve been taking a look at thus far. After this point Raging Bull becomes pretty clear to understand as it becomes more of a wash, rinse, repeat in the best way imaginable. All of the themes, sound design, and conflict have been established, it’s now just a matter of how that evolves and becomes corrosive as Jake’s psyche devolves.
When local girl, Vicki, becomes an attraction to Jake, we notice that life outside the ring becomes a little bit more easy-going. Less visceral and more romanticized as this relationship could potentially spell a better future for Jake at home. As Vicki and Jake become closer they eventually get married, as does his brother Joey, and we then get one of the best sequences in the entire film. As we all know, Raging Bull is shot entirely in black and white, but the one sequence that is in color is the celebration, marriage, and happiness between the two couples. This is the only time Raging Bull has a lens pointed at something that exudes warmth, happiness, and comfort. This happiness is intertwined with snapshots of La Motta’s success as a fighter. Signifying that despite this glimmer, that reality still very much exists, but is less kinetic and prevalent than it was before. Which is why this is shot in color, and the rest of the film is a grim black-and-white portrait of the impacts of living by the hands of violence. The choice to shoot this sequence in color along with a camera choice that resembles a home video is a stroke of genius. This small window of time within the film exists as a sort of relic of forgotten feelings and emotions. Life without bloodshed and punishing blows of violence is a reality that seems so distant and out of reach, almost alien to the reality we see now. These moments of sincerity and joy are short-lived, and the first cut back to black-and-white is a yelling match between Joey and Jake. A harsh wake-up call from the dreamy and wonderful promises of the joys life has to offer without violence around every corner and in every home.
The rest of Raging Bull is a methodical descent into mistrust, complicated relationships, and a further addiction to violence. Whether it’s Joey making a scene at the Copacabana, Jake getting more physical with Vicki, more bloodshed during the boxing matches, and more lethal dialogue between the characters, the downfall of Jake La Motta begins with his rise to power as a fighter. The pursuit of a title shot and eventual victory spells the end of Jake’s addiction to violence in the ring as he essentially gives himself up to Sugar Ray Robinson. Jake may have lost the fight, but he won the war with Sugar Ray as he recalls the fact that Jake was never knocked down by Sugar Ray, although Jake was the first one to knock him down for the first time, and multiple times after. Jake gets the last laugh, and his life thereafter is without boxing, but his mental state is disintegrated.
The last half hour of Raging Bull sees Jake running his club. Overweight, crude, and only identical to the former Jake through physical presence and call backs to his former self. He treats Vicki poorly, lets underage drinkers into his club and toys around with them, and is eventually imprisoned for a short time. Here Jake is in a cell and throwing endless punches into a wall almost hidden entirely by a cast of shadow, and all that reverberates is the sound of fist meeting concrete and yells in frustration. This is the first time since the last fight where we see Jake unleash a fury of violence, but this time there is no satisfaction of victory. Only remorse, pain, and anger towards himself in the cell where the bull has been caged. A callback to the first shot of the film where that ring has transformed into a literal cell. After his release shortly after, La Motta tries to make amends with Joey. Despite practically begging for his brother to hug him and kiss him, Joey isn’t having any of it. He remains passive and showcases the lack of sympathy he has for his brother after having to endure his physical and mental abuse for years. Jake, despite his (seemingly) good efforts is completely unrecognizable now for better and worse. The last scene of the film takes place in Jake’s prep room before putting on a show for his valued guests, and he recalls Marlon Brando’s big scene in On The Waterfront. The classic line reading of, “You don’t understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it.” It’s unsubtle, but it shows Jake’s recognition of his identity now as a former somebody, who is on the fringe of being a forgotten nobody. All those years of success could have led to even more success, but his descent into abuse day after day destroyed himself and the people around him. It was uncontrollable, and an addiction he couldn’t kick, especially when we note the final seconds before the credits roll. Jake hypes himself up and throws punches at the air before he leaves the room. This time he isn’t fighting in the ring, Joey, his wife Vicki, or a concrete wall, he has no one left to fight but himself, and the puffs of air and anger that we hear with those punches as it cuts to black stings like a bee.
Raging Bull is a masterpiece. A personal and timely movie for the now decorated Martin Scorsese, and a cornerstone of his filmography alongside Taxi Driver, GoodFellas, and The Last Temptation of Christ. Raging Bull is about a man’s descent into physical and mental abuse because of his addiction to violence, and if that doesn’t speak directly to Scorsese’s few years before he made Raging Bull, then I don’t know what does. A deadly cocaine addiction in the wake of artistic disappointment was channeled into this film and understanding that story between De Niro and Scorsese illuminates Raging Bull in a light I never thought I could see. Choosing to shoot in black-and-white allows this story to be as grim, stark, and destructive as it probably was for Scorsese, and we view this story through that lens. That lens of grey matter where most of the characters are definitively unlikable people, but they service a thematic point behind this steel curtain of imagery. It’s a funnel into the psychological malfunctioning that comes with taking repeated blows to the head and how those tendrils expand out and punish everyone within fist’s reach. Which is why there is so much irony to Jake’s story, identity, nickname, film and book title, because although we see this as a grey world, all the bull can see is red
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