One of my favorite coffee-table books in a very long time is now available in stores: Martin Scorsese: All the Films by Olivier Bousquet, Arnaud Devillard, and Nicolas Schaller. Admittedly, I’m biased because of my unceasing adoration of Martin Scorsese’s filmography, especially the recent post-Oscar films, which I think are deeply underrated and among the best of the new century. As Criterion is releasing “Killers of the Flower Moon” later this month and this book is now in stores, it feels like the right time to revisit Scorsese’s entire run, from the early shorts (you really need to see “Italianamerican” if you haven’t done so) through to his latest masterpiece. Scorsese is currently in production on another film. They’ll need to update this excellent volume.
All the Films covers 26 features, 17 documentaries, 7 shorts, and 4 television episodes, and it does so one at a time, treating each with equal detail. It’s one of the most notable things about the book in that the production and legacy of films like “Taxi Driver” and “GoodFellas” have been exhaustively reported over the years, but there’s certainly been significantly less written about ventures like Scorsese’s HBO show “Vinyl” or one of his many music docs, “George Harrison: Living in the Material World.”
The structure of the book opens each project with what could be called an information page, including cast, runtime, and release date, as well as more detailed info like production dates, budget, and box office. It gives the volume an almost encyclopedic quality, which can be used as a research tool if people still do that kind of thing in the age of the internet. While it may sound silly, that kind of detailed work really grounds the book in a foundation that blends both the informational and the critical. Those who look for deep critical analysis may want to look elsewhere, but anyone looking for information about the production of this incredible filmography won’t find a better one.
While the backbone of the book is the chronological reporting on Martin Scorsese’s films, the writers occasionally cut in essays, interviews, and other features out of chronological order. While that might sound haphazard, it serves to remind the reader how much of Scorsese’s work comments on itself, moving back and forth in time. So going from the “The Wolf of Wall Street” section to a feature about drug use in Scorsese’s films, particularly “GoodFellas,” feels organic and enlightening.
Of course, the book also includes wonderful production stills and behind-the-scenes photos, along with copious trivia sidebars about every single production.
As the streaming era continues to thrive, more and more people seem to be commenting on the end of physical media. I imagine coffee table books like this one have been impacted by the prevalence of information online, but what elevates Martin Scorsese: All the Films is that it’s more than just a Wikipedia-in-book-form project. It’s filled with insight, passion, and creativity. Just like its subject.
Get a copy here.
