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DiCaprio and Hill are amazing in a sexist porno called 'Wolf of Wall Street'

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The Wolf of Wall Street

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“The Wolf of Wall Street” with its blatant displays of sexual intercourse, sadomasochism, oral sex and deviant variations of all of the above, provides no moral to its story. It simply promotes money and excess and confirms bad behavior, swaddled with money, simply gets a shrug from accomplices and witnesses alike.

A thinly veiled story based on a book of the same name tracks Jordan Belfort (an outstanding Leonardo DiCaprio) as a 22-year-old shedding humble beginnings and loving wife for the uber- material world of Manhattan faux finance.

As he explodes into penny stock swindles and grows his own investment firm with flunkies from his hood, he is catapulted headlong into the narcissistic and vacuous world of Wall Street Here the potholes are sinkholes in disguise.

Frightening in his gaylord depiction of Donnie, his best friend and vice president, Jonah Hill’s sexually ambiguous (ok, not that ambiguous) wing man is a more extensive play on his “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” fawning gay waiter. Candied up in pastel outfits and affectations, he is repulsive as a no one, and then as a no one with money.

Make no mistake however, from an acting standpoint, Hill is amazing. It’s his film as much as DiCaprio’s. He manages to nudge right up to stealing each scene he is in, without using volume.

As Belfort flings off his previously earthly trappings like there are candy wrappers, his loving wife becomes extinct and in her place, a piece of blond perfection played smart and sweet by Margot Robbie. Her “Naomi” never comes off as a gold-digger or taker. The genuine connection is palpable. Just like when she is done, it is the right time to jump off this train wreck.

Known for “About Time” and “Pan Am” Robbie’s “Naomi” is the woman who ultimately won’t involve herself with the tawdry trappings her husband finds so addicting. She maintains herself, her home and children with restraint while overindulging is her husband’s starting point.

At the end of the day, what seems like a week long spring break video with old and misshapen people, “The Wolf of Wall Street” can’t be art, a skillful or meaningful story or cautionary tale. It is simply an orgy for the boy participants and like-minded viewers.

They just may be the only one’s enjoying it.

Even “Boogie Nights” didn’t indulge in the lower rungs like this mess.

As self-indulgent as it is pointless, Martin Scorsese in his collaboration with DiCaprio delivers little more than a backslapping, testosterone fest. As for a target market, it clearly is not for women or girls. Sexual exploitation for the mere sake of debasement of women and the thinnest opportunity to put every sexual proclivity on a 40-foot screen is pornography, not entertainment. This is crass and hollow at best.

This year we have two films that side-stepped a shrieking X- rating (“Blue is the Warmest Color” being the other). Neither is brave, important nor art. What they offer is a wake-up call that morals and values have slipped further into the abyss when pornography is offered to the masses in three hour doses on 40-foot screens - and no one protests.

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