Ranking Martin Scorsese's Movies, from Worst to Best

It's Christmas Day, and you know what that means—it's time to binge on qualuudes, participate in a sex orgy on an airplane, and throw midgets into velcro bulls-eyes. Yes, seriously. Save all of the opening of presents, family dinners, and caroling for the next guy. Do yourselves a favor and haul ass to the nearest multiplex and bask in the glorious debauchery overload that is The Wolf of Wall Street, the new film from cinematic icon Martin Scorsese.

Since making his first feature, Who's That Knocking at My Door, in 1967, Scorsese has consistently been one of each subsequent decade's greatest filmmakers. In the '70s, he blessed audiences with Taxi Driver. In the '80s, Raging Bull. The following decade, Goodfellas and Casino. Then, in the aughts, The Departed. And now, at 71 years of age, Scorsese has made his wildest movie yet in The Wolf of Wall Street, a three-hour burst of hedonism starring Leonardo DiCaprio as Jordan Belfort, a real-life deviant who used his stockbroking job as fuel for all things sex, drugs, and money. It's one of Scorsese's best films, one that, in time, could rank right up there alongside the director's universally celebrated classics, including Taxi Driver and Goodfellas.

But where does The Wolf of Wall Street land within the director's extensive résumé as of right now? Get ready to debate—and, of course, hate—as Complex ranks Martin Scorsese's movies, from worst to best (excluding his documentaries).

23. Boxcar Bertha (1972)

Stars: Barbara Hershey, David Carradine, Barry Primus, Bernie Casey, John Carradine, Harry Northup, Victor Argo

“Marty, you’ve just spent a whole year of your life making a piece of shit. It’s a good picture, but you’re better than the people who make this kind of movie.” - John Cassavetes on Boxcar Bertha.

The kind of movies Cassavetes was talking about were gritty pictures made on meager budgets. Nobody was more adept at cranking out B- and C-quality movies than Boxcar Bertha’s producer Roger Corman. Films carrying the Corman label weren’t always artistic duds. A Corman film, however, would adhere to Corman’s creative input. The criteria imposed on Scorsese ranged from the specific (adding a car chase) to the general (make it more like Bonnie and Clyde).

Bertha is a good film to kickoff this list ranking Scorsese’s work. It's easy to retroactively locate the film's important moments, like its crucifixion scene, the visceral portrayal of violence, and Scorsese’s cameo as a soft-spoken young man wanting to spend the night with Bertha after sleeping with her. Upon its release, those who were watching closely enough, like Cassavetes, yearned for the artistic emergence of a very capable director. —Zade Constantine

22. New York, New York (1977)

Stars: Liza Minnelli, Robert De Niro, Lionel Stander, Barry Primus, Mary Kay Place, Georgie Auld, George Memmoli

New York, New York must have seemed like a befuddling film upon its release in 1977. It was shown against films that had pushed the perceived boundaries of cinema forward. That year, audiences consumed innovative works like Star Wars, Annie Hall, Eraserhead, and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. With his story about a saxophonist and a young singer begrudgingly falling in love during V-J day, Scorsese headed backwards to create a film that could stand alongside the lavish musicals of the '50s.

Great musicals such as West Side Story, Singin’ in the Rain, and The Band Wagon concealed their directors behind their theatricality and choreography. Scorsese’s directorial flourishes are apparent in New York, New York. The characters speak in frenzied insults and erupt in confrontation with one another.

When De Niro and Minnelli hit that major chord together, acing their auditions and amazing ballroom crowds, New York, New York is an engrossing film. When the film's more difficult elements intentionally push the audience away, however, it can be difficult to once again find the charm in which this genre operates. Its big musical number is titled “Happy Endings,” a clever irony since the film refuses to end on one. The bitterness and frustration that can come of artistic pursuits are at the forefront. The damage inflicted by the film's dark side is never completely erased by its theatricality and elegance. —Zade Constantine

21. Kundun (1997)

Stars: Tenzin Thuthob Tsarong, Gyurme Tethong, Tulku Jamyang Kunga Tenzin, Tencho Gyalpo, Tsewang Migyur Khangsar, Tenzin Lodoe, Tsering Lhamo, Geshi Yeshi Gyatso

A scene from The Sopranos: Christopher waits outside a club. An actor playing Martin Scorsese walks through the crowd. Christopher yells, "Marty! Kundun, I like it!"

You should like Kundun, too. Scorsese's biographic take on the 14th Dalai Lama builds towards his exile from Tibet in 1959. That historic moment is rendered in a remarkable sequence that utilizes every technique Scorsese has in his arsenal. There's the Dalai Lama's voice-over and his spiritual resolve "not to leave the world in darkness." Repeated images play of the child Dalai Lama looking through a veil at his family and the cast of political advisers who shaped so much of his existence. The sequence inter-cuts with multicolored sand paintings as they are swept away. The weight of the spiritual world, placed on the shoulders of a child, is somehow visualized through these expressive views.

Kundun is poetry. Scorsese once said of the film, "I dedicated [Kundun] to my mother, because the unconditional love that she represented to me in my own life somehow connected with the idea of the Dalai Lama having a compassionate love for all sentient beings." Collaborators such as composer Phillip Glass, cinematographer Roger Deakins, and Scorsese's longtime editor and friend Thelma Schoonmaker would assist in bringing the sensory spirituality of the film to the screen. —Zade Constantine

20. The Aviator (2004)

Stars: Leonardo Dicaprio, Cate Blanchett, John C. Reilly, Kate Beckinsale, Alec Baldwin, Alan Alda, Ian Holm, Danny Huston, Gwen Stefani, Jude Law, Willem Dafoe, Adam Scott, Matt Ross, Kelli Garner, Frances Conroy

To pay homage to a man with exceptional vision, it takes a man with an equally limitless scope. Which is what made Scorsese's tackling of aerospace engineer/film director Howard Hughes' life such a perfect fit.

Scorsese's sprawling biopic stylistically progresses as he swiftly moves through the decades of Hughes' complicated life. Mirroring the times, the film famously spends the first 50 minutes in off-reds and blues emulating the Multicolor process used in cinema through the early 30s, before moving onto Technicolor post 1935. A trick of Scorsese's own, the film picks up speed as Hughes' does, becoming increasingly fast-paced and tabloid-like and anxiously immersing itself in the descent of its main hero into paranoia.

Its only fault, really, is attempting to cram Hughes' entire story into 170 minutes. The move makes the film feel slightly disjointed and exhausting. It's difficult to stop yourself from checking the time about 70 minutes into the movie.

But its flaw is redeemed by its character work. Scorsese evokes Oscar-nominated performances from Hollywood's best, namely Leonardo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes and Cate Blanchett as Katharine Hepburn. While it can be difficult to buy the baby-faced DiCaprio as the grizzled Hughes, Blanchett loses herself in Hepburn, her voice and hyper mannerisms all pitch perfect. Though you'll undoubtedly walk away with a History-Channel-special's worth of info about Hughes, it's Blanchett who'll leave you the most impressed. —Tara Aquino

19. The Color of Money (1986)

Stars: Paul Newman, Tom Cruise, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, Helen Shaver, John Turturro, Bill Cobbs

Paul Newman won his sole Oscar for reprising his role as Fast Eddie Felson in Scorsese's The Color of Money. Unlike sequels that meticulously continue the narrative between installments, The Color of Money embraces the 25 ambiguous years that separate it from its predecessor. The Hustler, Robert Rossen's 1961 film, was a stylish piece of cinema that introduced Fast Eddie's ruses, his charisma, and the despair that accompanied a life of hustling.

Though Scorsese's film doesn't chronicle what transpired in those gap years, the distant memory of hustles and the relentlessness of passing decades concerns Eddie. Those feelings are amplified by the arrival of a young pool shark named Vincent (Tom Cruise). The Color of Money pairs a Hollywood icon with a young actor on the fringe of stardom and allows them to play with the archetypes that define the roles of mentor and pupil.

A prolonged weariness marks the film and its aging protagonist. The characters find themselves in rundown motels, dreary streets, and snowy highways. At one point, the camera remains stationary as Eddie exits the building, celebrates a victory in the pool competition, and calmly returns inside. This shot confirms that while Scorsese is in command of this story, and The Color of Money is most certainly a Martin Scorsese picture, the character of Eddie never belonged entirely to him. He doesn't approach his subject with the same cinematic zeal he reserves for characters like Jack LaMotta, Travis Bickle, and Hugo.

The best moments of the film are when the script allows Scorsese to indulge in the frenetic type of cinema that fills much of his work. The camera pans wildly and follows the 8-Ball. Cruise dances around the table landing impossible shots and swinging his pool cue like a sword. His real weapon, however, is that cockiness and swagger perfected in many later roles. "Werewolves of London," by Warren Zevon, blasts through the jukebox. Newman looks on disapprovingly. Effortlessly cool. —Zade Constantine

18. Who's That Knocking at My Door (1967)

Stars: Zina Bethune, Harvey Keitel, Anne Collette, Lennard Kuras, Michael Scala

Roger Ebert discovered Scorsese’s first feature at the Chicago Film Festival in 1967. “It is all there in the first film," he later wrote. “The themes and obsessions, the images and character types that would inspire Martin Scorsese for the whole of his career.”

Who's That Knocking at My Door is a remarkably heady arrival free from the trepidation that marks many debut films. In order to secure the film’s distribution, Scorsese had to include a divergent and lengthy sex scene. The film’s religious iconography and portrayal of its anguished protagonist J.R. (“and Introducing Harvey Keitel”), however, remained untainted by greater powers.

Potent visual moments show the toll tradition and the modern city can have on a young man in love. There are musical interludes where characters horseplay with a gun and frequent discussions about John Wayne. Guess remains a relentlessly inquisitive film through these emotional pieces. We follow J.R. on a weekend in the country and into his despairing nightmares where he sees his girlfriend getting raped.

From the start, the camera was a tool Scorsese could use to investigate the experiences in life that couldn’t be succinctly summarized. He realized, quite early, that movies could be about that void we can find ourselves in where reason and faith aren’t enough. —Zade Constantine

17. Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974)

Stars: Ellen Burstyn, Alfred Lutter, Kris Kristofferson, Billy Green Bush, Diane Ladd, Lelia Goldono, Jodie Foster, Harvey Keitel

Scorsese's fourth feature follows a widow across Arizona, traveling with her rowdy son and determined to become a singer. Alice (Ellen Burstyn) bounds through seedy motels and bad relationships towards a dream that is increasingly impractical. She is adept at fleeing bad situations but is incapable of confronting past traumas. For her performance, Burstyn was awarded the Academy Award for Best Actress.

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore is unapologetic about its melodrama. The waitresses of the diner Alice works at console each other while the restaurant goes to hell around them. Alice sobs about her dead husband to convince a bar owner to take her on as a singer. A rancher named David (Kris Kristofferson) arrives late in the film with the perfect kind of love Alice needs. It was this type of content, so far removed from the urban grit of his previous films, that showed how versatile a storyteller Scorsese could be.

The film is worth watching for its opening section alone. Alice, a child, walks through a technicolor drenched set with doll in hand. The imagery recalls the spectacle and luster of classics like The Wizard of Oz. The effect, however, is broken when the cherubic Alice says, "You wait and see and if anybody doesn't like it they can blow it up their ass." We are pulled to the present. The music by Mott the Hoople blasts. If the reason for this opening isn't immediately apparent, its visceral impact is instantly felt. —Zade Constantine

16. The Age of Innocence (1993)

Stars: Daniel Day-Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer, Winona Ryder, Alexis Smith, Geraldine Chaplin, Mary Beth Hurt, Alec McCowen, Richard E. Grant, June Squibb, Miriam Margoyles, Robert Sean Leonard, Carolyn Farina

Flowers bloom with striking elegance during the opening credits of Scorsese's adaptation of Edith Wharton's novel. The imagery, designed by frequent Hitchcock collaborator Saul Bass, hints at the tender and unconsummated desires depicted in the film. The Age of Innocence appeared as a radical departure from the horrors that filled earlier Scorsese films like Goodfellas and Cape Fear. You will find, as the film progresses, Scorsese's most frequent themes residing under the antiquated customs and practices of the 19th century.

Newland Archer (Daniel Day-Lewis), a lawyer who abides by the societal customs that govern New York's wealthiest, falls in love with the cousin of his fiancé. Newland's pursuit of forbidden love happens under the probing gaze of the aristocracy and under Scorsese's equally inquisitive eye. The evocative details Scorsese obsesses over drive the film. Captured with urgency and inventive cinematic techniques are decadent dinners, regal ballroom dancers, and priceless paintings. These material things can acceptably be showcased in Newland's world. His pursuit of the Countess Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer), however, is definitely not an OK thing to exhibit. These feelings, the unspoken emotional undercurrent to every scene in the film, remain locked tight.

The Age of Innocence is a major work from Scorsese. The characters are as cutthroat as any wiseguy. Manners and gossip are the weapons on display here. The damage they inflict will haunt Newland and the viewer for a long time. —Zade Constantine

15. Gangs of New York (2002)

Stars: Leonardo Dicaprio, Daniel Day-Lewis, Cameron Diaz, Liam Neeson, Jim Broadbent, Henry Thomas, Brendan Gleeson, Gary Lewis, John C. Reilly, Stephen Graham, Larry Gilliard Jr.

The final image of Scorsese's Gangs of New York grows more powerful each year. A time-lapse of the New York City waterfront showcases the birth of skyscrapers and bridges as the century passes. The sequence culminates with the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center standing tall and a city still intact.

Released theatrically just over a year after 9/11, Gangs of New York and its ending felt like Scorsese's tribute to the city that spawned his cinematic creations and passions. Eleven years later, the film's conclusion takes on a new significance. Amsterdam, played by Dicaprio (the first of five collaborations with Scorsese), laments, "And no matter what they did to build this city up again, for the rest of time, it would be like no one knew we was ever here." Scorsese's preservation of that image ensures Amsterdam's prophecy never comes true.

Gangs of New York contains visceral moments, abundant historical details, and an iconic performance from Daniel Day-Lewis as Bill the Butcher. The film chronicles Amsterdam's return to the Five Points section of Manhattan and his plan to enact revenge on the rival gang leader, Bill the Butcher (Day-Lewis), who killed his father. Amsterdam's quest for vengeance becomes tied to the widespread political corruption of Tammany Hall and the crimes committed by the destitute residents of the Five Points. Scheming politicians and club-wielding police officers, however, are nowhere near as terrifying as Bill. Amsterdam watches as Bill violates the carcass of a pig. He points to the vital organs, thrusts a knife into the flesh, and yells, "This is a kill!" As Amsterdam gains Bill's trust, the details and violence that mark Bill's life become increasingly frightening and compelling.

Gangs of New York was nominated for 10 Academy Awards but won none. The film's opulent sets and production design, though unrewarded, contribute to the exhilarating sequences on display. The opening fight is a savage battle where limbs get dismantled and severed ears collected. It's a frenetic and visceral creation that stands alongside Martin Scorsese's most dynamic sequences. —Zade Constantine

14. The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)

Stars: Willem Dafoe, Harvey Keitel, Steve Shill, Barbara Hershey, Verna Bloom, Roberts Blossom, Barry Miller, Irvin Kershner, Gary Basaraba, Victor Argo

The opening title card of the film reads, "This film is not based upon the Gospels but upon this fictional exploration of the eternal spiritual conflict." Scorsese could articulate what his film was but could not escape the controversy that would hang over The Last Temptation of Christ.

It is a film filled with unabashedly brazen images of religious figures acting in ways never depicted by familiar murals or stain glass windows. Images that prompted a French Christian fundamentalist group to attack a movie theater with molotov cocktails. Roger Ebert, one of the film's biggest supporters, stumbled upon the greatest obstacle that accompanies discussing the work. He concluded his 1988 review by saying, "I see that this entire review has been preoccupied with replying to the attacks of the film's critics, with discussing the issues, rather than with reviewing The Last Temptation of Christ as a motion picture." Over 20 years later, the attitudes and viewpoints have remained relatively unchanged.

The film is full of oddities. Judas has a New York accent. The score is comprised of Peter Gabriel's pulsating rhythms. David Bowie plays Pontius Pilate. If these things seem extraneous to a film about Jesus Christ, they are essential tools for a director adapting the spiritual question at the center of Nikos Kzantzakis' source novel. The idiosyncrasies remind us (more than any title card) that what we are watching isn't theology. It's a Martin Scorsese film concerned with the spiritual mysteries of a director that nearly became a priest. It is not an easy film to decipher, the last image is of the film burning up, but it draws out the most analytical and spiritual convictions of the viewer. If they don't condemn it from the start. —Zade Constantine

13. Shutter Island (2010)

Stars: Leonardo Dicaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingsley, Michelle Williams, Emily Mortimer, Patricia Clarkson, Elias Koteas, Jackie Earle Haley, Ted Levine, Max von Sydow, Ruby Jerins, Christopher Denham, John Carroll Lynch

One of the many, many great things about Martin Scorsese's movies is their sense of joy, even when the material is bleak, bloody, and cynical. That joy comes from Scorsese himself, whose love of filmmaking is obvious and tangible in every single frame. You can always tell the the guy is always having a blast behind the camera.

Case in point: Shutter Island, Scorsese's heavily stylized ode to horror, specifically psychological horror. With Leonardo DiCaprio giving his most slept-on performance, Shutter Island is a dark, moody descent into madness, in which DiCaprio plays an on-edge federal marshal investigating a patient's disappearance on a large, secluded, Alcatraz-like mental hospital.

Scorsese's giddiness over dabbling in full-blown, no-pretensions genre moviemaking is clear right away—Shutter Island opens with aggressive, foreboding horns that are anything but subtle. The same goes for the film as a whole, with its surrealistic dream sequences, intentionally disorienting editing, and, yes, that divisive finale, where Scorsese and company over-explain the story's numerous twists.

To anyone who can't get past Shutter Island's ending, go back and re-watch the film knowing its end-game—you'll see that it's meticulously plotted and perfectly structured, devoid of any plot holes and thematically changing from psychological horror to profound, heartbreaking tragedy. And, perhaps, you'll gain a newfound appreciation for Shutter Island, Martin Scorsese's underrated exercise in first-class Gothic horror. —Matt Barone

12. Bringing Out the Dead (1999)

Stars: Nicolas Cage, Patricia Arquette, John Goodman, Ving Rhames, Tom Sizemore, Marc Anthony, Cliff Curtis, Mary Beth Hurt, Aida Turturro, Phyllis Somerville, Queen Latifah

Scorsese’s fourth collaboration with screenwriter Paul Schrader resulted in another film infused with biblical musings and images. We watch paramedic Frank Pierce (Nicholas Cage) unravel over a series of consecutive night shifts. He’s unable to alleviate a city perpetually ill and is growing exceedingly troubled by the deaths he presides over. Things would improve if he could only get some sleep or find a way to get fired.

Bringing out the Dead is fascinating for the mythos it infuses into NYC's gritty streets. Frank saves the lives of characters with ailments that could be mistaken for powerful metaphors. The problem is, he’s too tired and on edge to decipher the great mysteries in front of him. There’s a man whose constant thirst can’t be quenched and a virgin giving birth to twins. Schrader and Scorsese are interested in the spiritually of these happenings but are equally invested in the frantic quality of the work that has the power to gloss over miracles.

Frank and his rotation of partners rush down streets where Taxi Driver or Mean Streets could have been set on. The events in Bringing Out the Dead, however, are strange escapades that feel removed from the temporal world in which Scorsese's films are usually set. He's our guide through such surreal territory. It is his voice coming from command, barking out orders, and sending our heroes to their next call. The filmmaker on the other end of the line, moving his film from one dynamic moment to the next.—Zade Constantine

11. Cape Fear (1991)

Stars: Robert De Niro, Nick Nolte, Jessica Lange, Juliette Lewis, Illeana Douglas, Joe Don Baker, Robert Mitchum, Gregory Peck

Not even the reputable Martin Scorsese could outdo the virtuosity of director J. Lee Thompson's dark-as-night 1962 thriller Cape Fear. Robert Mitchum, the O.G. of imposing on-screen villainy, is a force of threatening nature as Max Cady, an ex-con determined to administer bloody payback to the prosecutor who put him behind bars.

Looking to get his Alfred Hitchcock on a bit, Scorsese tackled Cape Fear with slightly more horror-centric sensibilities than he'd previously ever shown. His film, while inferior to Thompson's, assaulted viewers with hardcore images of violence and sadism rarely seen in early 1990s mainstream cinema. Today, Scorsese's Cape Fear is still able to grimly distress audiences. -Matt Barone

10. The Departed (2006)

Stars: Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Vera Farmiga, Alec Baldwin, Ray Winstone, Martin Sheen, Anthony Anderson, James Badge Dale, Kevin Corrigan

One look at the critically acclaimed 2002 Hong Kong crime thriller Infernal Affairs and it's easy to see why Martin Scorsese was so drawn to its story; twisty, pulpy, and bursting with violent gunplay, directors Andrew Lau's and Alan Mak's tale of undercover intrigue within both an organized crime outfit and the police department fits right into the wheelhouse of the esteemed filmmaker responsible for gangster hallmarks like Goodfellas and Casino.

With The Departed, Scorsese and screenwriter William Monahan stayed very true to the tone and narrative of Infernal Affairs. What the Asian original didn't have, however, was the one-two-three acting juggernaut of Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, and Jack Nicholson, who all give riveting, pitch-perfect performances that, surprisingly are nearly outdone by co-star Mark Wahlberg. Like all of Scorsese's greatest films, The Departed gets better with repeat viewings, which allow viewers to fully absorb its multi-layered, labyrinthian plot.

It's no wonder why the film took home the Academy Award for Best Picture in the 2007 ceremony; most importantly, though, it also brought Scorsese his first-ever Best Director statue, bringing an end to a decades-long Academy travesty. -Matt Barone

9. Hugo (2011)

Stars: Asa Butterfield, Chloë Moretz, Jude Law, Emily Mortimer, Christopher Lee, Ben Kingsley, Sacha Baron Cohen, Richard Griffiths, Ray Winstone, Michael Stuhlbarg

If you remember that first Hugo trailer, released in mid-2011, then you no doubt recall how quickly cinephiles' red flags began waving. Devoted film buffs knew that the almighty Martin Scorsese's latest, an adaptation of author Brian Selznick's whimsical look at silent movies and childhood adventure, was going to be a family-friendly diversion from Scorsese's usual grit, but the initial preview, marred by lame pratfalls and a grimacing dog, hinted at a miscalculation of Marmaduke's caliber.

But then we all woke up and remembered that's Martin fucking Scorsese we're talking about, and the iconic filmmaker's Hugo turned out to be anything but hackneyed. Utilizing 3D technology to gorgeous degrees, and anchored by a slew of delightful performances (namely Ben Kingsley's fragile turn as legendary director George Meiles), Hugo is uplifting and welcoming enough for the kids, but, really, it's a grown-up movie lover's playpen.

The film's third act, in particular, is a tour de force of grade-A storytelling and all-out magic. Scorsese presents a series of classic black-and-white, silent flicks in modern-day 3D, and the results are invigorating. Hugo sends the viewer out on a cinema-loving high. -Matt Barone

8. Casino (1995)

Stars: Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci, Sharon Stone, Frank Vincent, Don Rickles, James Woods, Pasquale Cajano, John Bloom, Kevin Pollak, L.Q. Jones, Alan King, Bill Allsion

Casino, the second collaboration between crime reporter Nicholas Pileggi and Martin Scorsese, who first joined forces to adapt the writer’s 1985 non-fiction mob account Wiseguy into the 1990 Academy Award winner Goodfellas, will always live in the shadow of the gangster classic that preceded it. But then, so do all movies—especially ones focused on the mob—that have followed what is arguably Scorsese’s masterwork.

The true-ish tale of the Chicago mob’s profit-skimming involvement in 1970s and early 1980s Las Vegas, Casino is glitzier and even more brutally violent than Goodfellas; a bullet in the back of the head seems like a positively humane way to kill off a hotheaded Joe Pesci character when compared to a bone-breaking baseball bat beating and burial while still alive. Like the Vegas-set parts of the first two Godfather films and 1991’s Bugsy, Casino captures an era in the city’s history before the FBI loosened organized crime’s hold on gambling and corporations swooped in to transform it into the glowing, more family-friendly playland that it is today.

Scorsese’s visual flair is as strong as ever (see: the attempted assassination via car bombing), as are his musical choices. But one of the chief reasons to watch the movie is a glam Sharon Stone, who adds a tragic beauty to the production as casino boss “Ace” Rothstein’s (Robert De Niro) troubled wife Ginger, a two-timing, child- and substance-abusing hustler who seems determined to destroy herself and those around her. In a career that has garnered several well-deserved Razzie nods, Stone’s Golden Globe-winning and Oscar-nominated performance is proof that a) she’s more talented than a leg-crossing up-skirt shot, and b) Scorsese is a brilliant director. (Basic Instinct 2, this ain’t.)

That it ain’t Goodfellas, either, should only indicate how truly unimpeachable his earlier gangster classic was. —Justin Monroe

7. Mean Streets (1973)

Stars: Harvey Keitel, Robert De Niro, David Proval, Amy Robinson, Richard Romanus, Cesare Danova, Victor Argo

Mean Streets opens with a gritty bit of proselytizing: “You don’t make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets. You do it at home. The rest is bullshit and you know it.”

The attitude of those opening lines, like the dynamic visuals and sounds that fill the film, are a product of Scorsese’s environment: the streets of Little Italy. The film signaled the arrival of a formidable artist unafraid to intimately explore rough characters and infuse his work with resounding energy.

The locations, dialect, and even the faces of the actors (Kietel and De Niro in star-making performances) all lend authenticity to Mean Streets. It's the constantly moving camera and characters, however, that best suggest New York City’s frenzied quality of life. Johnny Boy (De Niro) strolls into a bar while the Rolling Stones' “Jumping Jack Flash” plays. The first time we see him in the film, he is running away from a mailbox he just blew up (no explanation for this act is ever given). The camera rotates around a pool hall while the boys scrap after insulting the patron. These iconic Scorsese images are electrifying to watch because they retain a raw quality to them. We sense a director discovering certain techniques and ideas for the first time.

Mean Streets isn’t merely a good film because it's Scorsese’s first great one, nor because it hints at a filmmaker capable of later crowing achievements. Within it are complex ideas about loyalty and friendship, religion and faith, success and failure. Its love for the language of cinema is also evident. After Charlie (Keitel) finds out how much his friends took off of two kids looking to get high, he says, “Twenty dollars! Let’s go to the movies.” They go see The Searchers.

Scorsese’s most tender ode to the magic of the movies arrives with the film’s opening credits. A projector plays images of Charlie’s (though it may as well be Scorsese’s) life. Shadows of the church, marriages, and storefronts situated on the mean streets flicker on the screen. “Be My Baby” by the Ronettes plays. That's what Mean Streets and Martin Scorsese are all about. —Zade Constantine

6. The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

Stars: Leonardo Dicaprio, Jonah Hill, Margot Robbie, Kyle Chandler, Matthew McConaughey, Rob Reiner, Jon Favreau, Jon Bernthal, Cristin Milioti, Jean Dujardin, Kenneth Choi, Ethan Suplee, Spike Jonze

Martin Scorsese's filmography is packed with classic scenes. For example, there's the "You talking to me?" moment in Taxi Driver, and the "You think I'm funny?" exchange in Goodfellas. In the director's latest film, The Wolf of Wall Street, there's more than one such scene—in fact, there are three that, years from now, will, or at least should, rank among Scorsese's most memorable movie moments. One involves Matthew McConaughey and the topic of masturbation; another finds Jonah Hill at his most hilariously vulgar; and the third, the film's crowning achievement, is an insane, riotous bit of physical comedy from star Leonardo DiCaprio. It'll forever be known as the "cerebral palsy" sequence, and it needs to be seen to be believed.

Much like The Wolf of Wall Street as a whole. Scorsese's craziest and funniest movie to date, the real-life story of excess-reveling, criminalistic/hedonistic stock broker Jordan Belfort (DiCaprio) has been described by DiCaprio as a more contemporary take on Caligula, a comparison that feels on-point during every kinky sex scene and disastrous drug trip. Written by Terence Winter (Boardwalk Empire's showrunner, and a former Wall Street worker himself), the film basks in its deplorable characters' worst impulses, staging their horrible acts as balls-to-the-wall comedy.

To say that Scorsese, DiCaprio, and everyone else on The Wolf of Wall Street "go for it" wouldn't do the film justice. Both figuratively and literally speaking, they slather "it" with mashed-up qualuudes, surround it with more drugs, and let it run wild. The end result: a new highpoint of cinematic anarchy in the god Martin Scorsese's already superlative career. —Matt Barone

5. After Hours (1985)

Stars: Griffin Dunne, Rosanna Arquette, Verna Bloom

Scorsese credits this strange film with re-energizing his efforts as a filmmaker. It preceded the grand films he would make in the late '80s and early '90s.

After Hours' deceptively simple set-up unfolds across the labyrinth of Lower Manhattan. Paul (Griffin Dunne) has to get home after a bizarre date with a woman he met in a coffee shop. The trouble is, "Different rules apply when it gets this late...it's like after hours." Paul finds himself in a gauntlet of dangerous encounters meticulously constructed by Scorsese to impose maximum discomfort. Ice cream truck drivers, angry mobs, and bartenders form a revolving band of characters that keep ruining Paul's night.

After Hours plays as a comedy but is filled with much discomfort. The savage cuts on Marci's (Rosanna Arquette) thigh and nasty drawings on bathroom walls are chaotic images that don't exist in Paul's mundane life. You're as shocked by their ugly reveals as much as he is. Comedy duo Cheech and Chong play burglars in the film and perhaps offer insight about why After Hours go to such seedy places: "The uglier the art, the more it's worth." —Zade Constantine

4. The King of Comedy (1982)

Stars: Robert De Niro, Jerry Lewis, Diahnne Abbott, Sandra Bernhard, Shelley Hack, Tony Randall, Ed Herlihy

The King of Comedy was an exhausting shoot for Scorsese and collaborator Robert De Niro. The tension felt by the creative members of the production seeped into the film and fueled The King of Comedy's discomforting scenes. Talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis) gets kidnapped by an aspiring stand-up comedian Rupert Pupkin (De Niro) and a a brazen stalker (Sandra Bernhard). Nobody in the film gets whacked but the delusions and dangerous fantasies on display run deeper than many of Scorsese's darkest pictures.

Pupkin is relentless towards those that try to evade him or outright ignore him. He jumps into limos, makes disruptive trips to the studio, and arrives uninvited at Jerry's country home. What keeps the film vibrant and watchable through these awkward encounters? The line that caps Pupkin's stand-up routine disarms some of our discomfort. He throws up his hands in defeat and concludes, "Better to be king for a night than schmuck for a lifetime." Who can't sympathize with that?

The King of Comedy is most unsettling when the prospect of fame masks the depth of Pupkin's delusions. He faces a mural of a studio audience and the sound of their imaginary laughter drowns out his monologue. The camera pulls away from the scene in a similar way it did from another uncomfortable Scorsese and De Niro creation: Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver.

It's not all gloomy, however. The surges of comedic moments are genuinely funny. Pumpkin hosts a fake show in his basement with unbelievable enthusiasm but is powerless to stop his mother from interrupting. People continue to discover that the most rewarding laughs offered by The King of Comedy come from its complex ironies. —Zade Constantine

3. Raging Bull (1980)

Stars: Robert De Niro, Cathy Moriarty, Joe Pesci, Nicholas Colasanto, Theresa Saldana, Frank Vincent

Go ahead and make a list of the Best Sports Movies and place Raging Bull at the top. It's the easy decision, because most sports movies suck, largely because they can't get their heads out of the game.

Martin Scorsese's best film is about the headspace of the athlete, in this case boxer Jake LaMotta. For a sports movie, there's little time spent in the ring, and when the cameras do move between the ropes, it's into a ring that's shaped formally by LaMotta's ferocious and roiling interiority. Go back and watch the fights again-you'll see that Scorsese distorts the canvas, shrinks it or makes it vast, depending on LaMotta's mood. During one bout, he filmed the fight with fire burning beneath the lens, and the waves of heat distort the images.

Get out of here with the sports nonsense. Raging Bull is about the inherent ugliness of masculinity as its been conceived of for generations. Being a man in Raging Bull means being warped by jealousy, inferiority, self-loathing. It's maleness as monsterousness. No wonder the Academy gave the 1980 Best Picture award to Ordinary People, a living room drama. The truth wasn't pretty enough. -Ross Scarano

2. Taxi Driver (1976)

Stars: Robert De Niro, Jodie Foster, Harvey Keitel

You heard the line before you first saw the film: "You talkin' to me?" In Martin Scorsese's dirty '70s masterpiece, Taxi Driver, it's the next line that's most important: " 'Cause there's no one else here."

How strange that a film so dominated by one POV-a racist, sexist, and just generally disturbed one, at that-has come to be the ultimate expression of New York City, a place made up of millions of perspectives. And yet so many of us are drawn to Travis Bickle, the cabbie who only wants to clean himself up, maybe make a friend. And if that doesn't work out, he'll settle for cleaning up his city.

That's the summary minus the psychosis, but the awesome power of Taxi Driver lies in that psychosis. By watching, you commit to two hours in Bickle's headspace. There is no exit from the dripping neon seediness of Times Square porno theaters, and pimps posted up outside of East Village walk-ups.

Indeed, the American imagination can't escape Taxi Driver, even 36 years after the film's release. When you hear someone who's lived in the city for just a month complain about Giuliani and Bloomberg's efforts to turn Manhattan into Disneyland, they're remembering Taxi Driver, a New York they experienced through the movies. New York is as much a film as it is a real place. -Ross Scarano

1. Goodfellas (1990)

Stars: Robert De Niro, Ray Liotta, Joe Pesci, Lorraine Bracco, Paul Sorvino

In the pantheon of American mobster movies, Martin Scorsese's 1990 drama is the most cinematically accomplished. At 146 minutes, the director allows himself enough time to pull out every device in his toolkit, from freeze frames to jump cuts to fourth wall-breaking monologues to tracking shots. Oh, that tracking shot.

Easily the film's most memorable scene, it took several days and eight takes to get Henry and Karen Hill's (Ray Liotta and Lorraine Bracco's) Steadicam-shot stroll through the Copacabana just right. And it had to be right, because it functions as a visual metaphor for the first first part of the story-the wonderful world is wide open to this couple.

As the film progresses, so too does the pacing, mimicking the speed at which Henry's life is spiraling out of control. It's frazzled and frenetic. Scorsese himself intended "to begin Goodfellas like a gunshot and have it get faster from there, almost like a two-and-a-half-hour trailer. I think it's the only way you can really sense the exhilaration of the lifestyle, and to get a sense of why a lot of people are attracted to it." -Jennifer Wood