1
1
1
2
3
Picture this: it’s the late 1980s. I’m in 8th grade, hanging out at my buddy’s house. His parents rented Goodfellas from Blockbuster (that’s like Netflix, but you had to drive to a store and pick up a physical tape). We snuck the VHS tape down to the basement, hit play, and boom—my mind was blown.
That was my first time seeing a Martin Scorsese movie. And honestly? I was totally seduced by the gangster lifestyle. Goodfellas became my favorite film, and I made it my mission to watch every single gangster movie ever made.
Today, let’s talk about why—almost 40 years later—we’re still obsessed with Henry Hill and his wild criminal adventures.
When Goodfellas hit theaters in September 1990, the crime genre had one undisputed king: Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather (1972). That movie was the "gold standard." Every other gangster film had to measure up to it.
But Goodfellas? It was something totally different.
| The Godfather Style | Goodfellas Style |
|---|---|
| Reverence, shadows, whispers | Bombastic, bragadocious, loud |
| Running an empire | Living fast, spending faster |
| "White-collar" gangsters | "Blue-collar" gangsters |
Scorsese showed us gangsters who embraced the lifestyle. They weren’t trying to be kings—they just wanted the money, the cars, the girls, and the respect right now.
Important Point: Goodfellas opened the genre up. It proved you could tell mob stories about regular working-class guys, not just fancy dons in suits.
The proof? When the American Film Institute ranked the top 10 gangster movies, Goodfellas landed at #2—right behind The Godfather and ahead of The Godfather: Part II.
Before 1990, most gangster movies were slow burns. They took their time. They were contemplative. You watched a guy rise, then fall, over three quiet hours.
Martin Scorsese and editor Thelma Schoonmaker threw that rulebook in the trash.
They wanted energy. They wanted you to feel like a gangster. So they:
By the time paranoia sets in, you feel watched too. You feel the walls closing in. That’s not an accident—that’s editing as empathy.
Scorsese didn’t just want you to watch Henry Hill (played by Ray Liotta). He wanted you to understand why a regular kid would fall in love with the mob.
Enter: The Copacabana Long Take.
Cinematographer Michael Ballhaus and Steadicam operator Larry McConkey pulled off one of the most famous shots in movie history. The camera follows Henry and his date Karen through the back entrance of the Copacabana nightclub:
No cuts. No edits. Just one continuous glide.
Important Point: This is "Show, Don’t Tell" at its finest. In three minutes, you feel the power, the access, the thrill. You get why Karen (and the audience) is seduced.
Before Goodfellas, mob movies used traditional scores—orchestral music that matched the scene’s emotion. Sad scene = sad strings. Tense scene = tense drums.
Scorsese said "nah." He used pop songs from the era instead.
Best example: The "Layla" montage. Derek and the Dominos’ "Layla" plays while mobsters get executed in frozen garbage trucks across NYC. It’s beautiful, tragic, ironic, and unforgettable all at once.
Important Point: The soundtrack doesn’t just accompany the movie—it is the movie. It puts you in the world. You smell the cigarette smoke. You hear the jukebox.
You know those movies that feel like Goodfellas? That’s because they basically are.
| Movie | Director | What It Stole from Goodfellas |
|---|---|---|
| Boogie Nights | Paul Thomas Anderson | Long takes, pop soundtrack, rise-and-fall energy |
| American Hustle | David O. Russell | Voiceover narration, period music, chaotic ensemble |
| The Wolf of Wall Street | Martin Scorsese | Same director, same kinetic style, same "lifestyle porn" |
Even Scorsese’s own The Irishman is a response to Goodfellas—he slowed it all down to make a movie about death, memory, and regret instead of the rush.
Goodfellas stays fresh because it broke the rules and wrote new ones.
Editing that makes you feel the high and the crash
Camerawork that puts you inside the seduction
Music that acts like a character, not background noise
A voice so distinct it spawned an entire subgenre
It didn’t just make a great gangster movie—it changed what a gangster movie could be.
Yes! It’s adapted from Nicholas Pileggi’s book Wiseguy, which tells the real life of Henry Hill—a former mobster who became an FBI informant. The major beats (the Lufthansa heist, the witness protection program) actually happened.
The Godfather is a Shakespearean tragedy about power, family, and corruption—slow, operatic, mythic.
Goodfellas is a high-energy ride about working-class guys chasing the fast life—gritty, funny, visceral. Think: suited dons vs. guys in tracksuits.
Because it’s one continuous take (about 3 minutes) with zero cuts. It perfectly shows—without a single line of dialogue—why the mob life is seductive: you skip lines, you own the room, everyone knows your name.
Nope. It lost to Dances with Wolves at the 1991 Oscars. (Many film fans still call this a robbery.) It did win Best Supporting Actor for Joe Pesci and Best Adapted Screenplay.
Fair warning: It’s very violent and very profane (300+ F-bombs). But the violence isn’t glamorous—it’s sudden, ugly, and consequences-heavy. If you can handle The Departed or Breaking Bad, you’ll be fine.
What’s your favorite Goodfellas moment? The "funny how?" scene? The "Layla" montage? The very last shot of Henry staring at his boring suburban breakfast? Drop it in the comments!