Review: “The Wolf of Wall Street.”

Jordan Belfort is eager to tell the audiences about his lifestyle, and show it off, too. Over breathless narration, Belfort brags about his daily drug intake (a cocktail of coke, ludes, booze, and more coke), and that snippet of dialogue is immediately before Belfort snorts coke off of a hooker’s asshole. Or does he blow the coke into her asshole? I’m not so sure. All this happens in the first minutes of The Wolf of Wall Street, Martin Scorsese’s three hour epic about drugs, corruption, and commitment to self-aggrandized excess. Scorsese may be over seventy, yet his latest shows that he’s in top form, and has no desire to slowdown. Those who don’t walk out of the movie will be exhausted by the time it’s over, and I mean that in the best way possible.

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