A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

“The Wolf of Wall Street” ironically opened on Christmas, a day of giving with love, and has, ever since, stirred up much controversy over its glorification of an unrepentant thief, Jordan Belfort. an ex-stockbroker “convicted of fraud crimes related to stock market manipulation and running a penny stock boiler room for which he spent 22 months in prison” (Wikipedia). While I am happy to close the door towolf-of-wall-street04 this Scorsese film, I find myself struggling that others are declaring the 180 minutes as brilliance. Award season hoopla aside, let me ask you, how did you feel when you left the theater? Did you reach back for your coat to brave the outdoors with  sensations akin to the flu? Did you find being a voyeur to the unsexy-sex, drug-abuse and blow-out-debauchery an excellent use of time? I will admit right here, in my introduction, that this film left me angry, and even now, a week later, I’d classify it as dangerous. Shall we disrobe the wolf?

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