The best Martin Scorsese movies

One of the definitive mob films of any era, Goodfellas tells the true life story of Henry Hill, an Irish-Italian-American mobster turned FBI informant. While Ray Liotta is brilliant in the lead role, it’s the support that hits hardest (quite literally), with Joe Pesci’s unpredictable Tommy DeVito on Oscar-worthy form. The true star here, however, is Scorsese himself, with his famous single-take nightclub scene worthy of a major award all by itself.

“You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me?” is a line that has entered into movie lexicon. It comes courtesy of a transcendent performance by Robert De Niro as the troubled war-vet-turned-cabbie Travis Bickle. Scorsese’s film is utterly unflinching in its depiction of mid-’70s New York street life, with its cast of pimps, perverts, and underage call girls – the latter providing an eyebrow-raising early role for Jodie Foster. Too edgy for the Oscars, Taxi Driver nevertheless secured Marty his one and only Palme d’Or.

From the swooning Pietro Mascagni theme to the technically stunning fight choreography and the striking black and white cinematography, Raging Bull is just about as iconic as Scorsese films get. In one of several signature Scorsese-directed roles, Robert De Niro plays middleweight boxer Jake LaMotta, who battles inner demons and brutal opponents alike. It was the performance that won De Niro his only Best Actor Oscar to date, with Cathy Moriarty and Joe Pesci providing more-than-worthy backup

Hollywood remakes of highly regarded Asian films don’t tend to turn out too well. Scorsese’s The Departed, however, runs the original (Andrew Lau’s Infernal Affairs) mighty close, and might even top it, with only a pat resolution falling short of its inspiration. Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon play opposing undercover operatives in a protracted war between the Boston mob and local law enforcement. If nothing else, The Departed is notable for giving Scorsese his one and only Best Director Oscar to date.

The Wolf of Wall Street was made with a manic energy that you wouldn’t necessarily have expected from a then–70-year-old Martin Scorsese. It’s the perfect approach for a story of such wanton, cocaine-fuelled debauchery and financial impropriety, based on the true life story of corrupt stockbroker Jordan Belfort. Leonardo DiCaprio puts in a suitably manic turn as Belfort, while Jonah Hill and Margot Robbie provide much needed heart and levity in what is, when you really get down to it, a rather nauseating tale of excess.

This dark, twisty psychological thriller saw Scorsese returning to his Hitchcock influences, dropping his usual widescreen concerns for a disturbing tale of identity and trauma. Leonardo DiCaprio continues his status as the director’s Robert De Niro for the new millennium, playing a Deputy U.S. Marshal investigating a missing person case on a creepy psychiatric ward. Shutter Island might not have the heft of some of Scorsese’s most famous work, but it’s impeccably made, and it’ll keep you guessing til the end.

Robert De Niro gets to play crazy for Scorsese once again, this time as a convicted rapist seeking vengeance on the lawyer (played by Nick Nolte) he feels deliberately botched his case. Not for the last time, the film sees Scorsese indulging his Hitchcock fandom with a tight, steadily escalating thriller that transcends its humble premise and works its way under your skin. Scorsese ratchets the tension up to almost unbearable levels during several key scenes as De Niro’s muscular baddie terrorises Nolte and his young family.

Mean Streets represents an early run out for a whole bunch of recurring Scorsese themes, including organised crime, brutal violence, catholic guilt, and Robert De Niro chewing the scenery. However, this is no mere prototype. Mean Streets is a great film in its own right, deftly telling the tale of young Italian-American Charlie Cappa (Harvey Keitel) and his attempts to protect his wayward friend Johnny Civello (De Niro) from various unsavoury influences.

Robert De Niro plays wannabe comic Rupert Pupkin, who obsessively stalks talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis) in a bid to catch his big break. Unusually for a Scorsese film, King of Comedy was a bit of a commercial dud, sending the director to the Hollywood naughty step for a time. History has been much kinder to the film, with its twisted, satirically comic edge proving both immensely influential (Todd Phillips’s Joker is essentially a tribute act) and hugely prescient in a celebrity-obsessed age.

Scorsese’s debut for streaming service Netflix turned out to be a quintessential Scorsese film in many respects, but with some noteworthy extra ingredients. It’s a familiar tale of (true) crime, violence and regret, albeit told across dozens of years courtesy of some fancy de-ageing effects. While it stars Scorsese regulars Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, the film also marks Al Pacino’s first ever Scorsese performance. A 209 minute running time, much like Killers of the Flower Moon, suggests that Scorsese sees the streaming age as an excuse to have his way in the editing room.