November 17, 2025, marks the 83rd birthday of Martin Scorsese, the cinematic shaman who spent decades plumbing the depths of masculine rage, Catholic guilt, and urban decay in masterpieces like 'Taxi Driver' and 'Goodfellas'. But beneath the hard-boiled exterior lies a quieter genius — one that occasionally emerges in films where love isn't a battlefield but a fragile negotiation of the heart.
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On this occasion, let's toast the other Scorsese: the one who, in 'Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore' (1974) and 'The Age of Innocence' (1993), steps away from the mean streets to illuminate women's unyielding quest for self-sufficiency, the delicate dance of mutual vulnerability, and a femininity that defies gender's rigid scripts. These aren't saccharine detours. They're precise dissections of human liberation, rendered with the same unflinching gaze that makes his noir attempts so visceral.
Scorsese's feminist portrait
'Alice Doesn't Live Here Anym
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