Here is a 2000+ word blog post on "The Deleted Scene That Defined Goodfellas":
Martin Scorsese‘s 1990 gangster epic "Goodfellas" is rightfully considered one of the greatest films of all time. Lauded for its intense violence, gripping drama, and technical mastery, "Goodfellas" fundamentally shaped public perception of the mobster lifestyle. Yet the film‘s most pivotal moment occurs in a scene viewers never witness on screen.
The infamous "Spider" death sequence, deleted prior to release, proved emblematic of Scorsese‘s uncompromising vision. Though cut due to intense audience reactions, its thematic importance rattled studio executives and preview audiences alike. In fighting and ultimately compromising for its omission, Scorsese laid the groundwork for "Goodfellas‘" brutal yet honest portrayal of organized crime.
The Spider Murder Sequence – Establishing Shot for Moral Ambiguity
In an extended voiceover preceding his initiation as a made man, Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) alludes to participating in a brutal murder alongside Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro) and Tommy Devito (Joe Pesci). The victim: Billy Batts (Frank Vincent), a mobster recently released from prison who repeatedly insults and belittles Tommy.
The original cut depicts Henry and Jimmy exiting a vehicle to find Batts stabbed, beaten, and bleeding profusely in the trunk. Batts‘ desperate pleas for mercy end with Tommy angrily slamming the trunk shut. A subsequent shot confirms the murder‘s completion, as Tommy glows with adrenaline stating Batts "won‘t be a problem no more."
The callousness of Hill, Conway, and Devito clarify any moral illusions. Henry maintains naïve romanticism of the mob lifestyle initially, describing himself as "an average nobody" who dreamed of entering "a world meant only for them." His participation in Spider‘s execution – and inability to intervene on his behalf – firmly establishes his compromised morality and spiritual death. As his attorney later states, "murderers come with smiles" – Hill‘s passivity makes him complicit.
This sequence‘s additional context solidifies Scorsese‘s intent. In the source material of Nicholas Pileggi’s “Wiseguy,” Henry Hill did not actively participate in the Spider murder. By placing Hill directly in the action, Scorsese breaks Hill’s unreliable narration and dramatizes his lost innocence. Subjected to sustained brutality from Batts beforehand, Devito‘s sociopathic behavior arises not solely from sadism, but self-preservation. And as Hill does nothing – paralyzed between conflicting loyalties – his inaction serves as the film’s true turning point.
Scorsese Fights for Violence Authenticity
Despite praising "Goodfellas’" shooting script as the best he’d ever read, Warner Bros. clashed routinely with Scorsese over depictions of violence. Scorsese refused to compromise, believing graphic content essential to communicating the savage realities of mob life. His message emerged clearly throughout filming: anything less than punishing authenticity betrays not only Sinatra and Coppola‘s mob classics, but truth itself.
Nowhere shone Scorsese’s directorial authority brighter than in the "Billy Batts/Spider" sequences. Asring in Frank Vincent to reprise his "Wiseguy” role demonstrated continuity to the true event. Vincent‘s method pedigree – hardened through Raging Bull‘s brawls and The Sopranos‘ grittiness – similarly fit Scorsese‘s vision. Even technical elements like shooting within an actual refrigerated truck evoked a gripping, brutal tone.
Most notably, Scorsese retained Spider‘s most gruesome details: being stabbed nine times with kitchen knives and a meat cleaver, continuing to scream even when locked in the car trunk. Tommy Savage’s savage yet controlled attack – no mere threat display – revealed homicidal precision, and Henry‘s passive complicity sealed his damned trajectory.
Yet even Scorsese could not anticipate preview audiences‘ discomfort. Accustomed to stylized violence, seeing torture filmed unflinchingly proved deeply affecting. Women reportedly cried, asking aloud for mercy. Men shouted death threats at Tommy, demanding the film stop. Word reached Warner Bros. – audiences could not handle this level of viciousness.
Scorsese raged. His entire thesis rested upon Henry‘s spiritual death through grappling with underworld realities. Tommy represented the ambulance waiting at the end of Henry‘s innocence. To cut Tommy‘s acts now undermined Scorsese‘s vision entirely.
Yet in negotiating Spider’s necessary omission, additional scenes arose contextualizing unflinching violence. Tommy stabbing Billy seven times proved too much, but showing Billy spray blood violently from three wounds demonstrated Tommy’s sociopathy sufficiently. And while Spider disappeared, Tommy’s late film shooting of Stacks Edwards following a perceived insult illustrated Tommy‘s hairpin temper. Batt‘s death defined the film’s soul – its absence allowed that soul to spread outward.
Pesci‘s "Funny How" Scene – Improv reflecting underlying psychoses
Tommy‘s character represented more than a hot-tempered murderer, but one restraining violent urges constantly behind a jocular facade. Nowhere did this reveal itself more fully than Pesci‘s acclaimed "Funny how? Funny How?" scene.
The premise seems harmless – during a late night card game, Tommy takes offense at Henry calling him "funny." "You mean, let me understand this cause, ya know maybe it‘s me, I‘m a little f***ed up maybe, but I‘m funny how?," Tommy reacts, offended. Tommy pressures Henry to clarify in vain before abruptly reconciling moments later.
Yet as Henry desperately soothes him, Scorsese trains his camera on Tommy, hinting at seething psychopathy beneath his passive smile. Tommy warns Henry quietly never to insult him again. Once informed filming concluded, Pesci erupts furiously, alarming even seasoned mobsters.
This entire scene emerged spontaneously through Pesci‘s improvisation. Pesci had relayed to Scorsese a real-life incident with mobster Anthony Spilotro, where Spilotro grew similarly offended at being called "funny" until Pesci clarified himself stammering. Recreating that experience verbatim, Pesci tapped directly into Tommy Devito‘s rage. Even Liotta‘s fearful responses came organically – he had no forewarning how the scene would unfold.
Scorsese instantly knew this would make the cut. Tommy‘s hair-trigger fury – glinting like a loaded gun behind harmless jokes – spoke to profound insecurities driving his violence. Existing purely in the moment, Pesci and Liotta gave us glimpses into Tommy‘s very essence.
Goodfellas without this scene loses tremendous humanity – Tommy as mere volatile psychopath contrasts with recognizing his wounds beneath congeniality. Much like the film itself, excising raw outbursts smooths rough edges at truth’s cost. Here was reality‘s bleeding heart.
The Virtuoso Use of Music as Commentary
Scorsese famously proclaimed in interviews that the "Goodfellas” screenplay came with its own soundtrack embedded throughout. Utilizing music as contextual commentary rather than ornament, Scorsese‘s layering of original songs over key moments played profoundly in immersing audiences inside mob mentality.
The influential soundtrack pervaded all aspects of production. Scorsese himself selected all musical cues, collaborating intimately with frequent scorer Robbie Robertson. Set pieces arose purpose-built around planned song inclusions. Tommy‘s execution juxtaposed over Eric Clapton‘s "Layla" for thematic irony. Songs stressing frantic energy ("Sunshine of Your Love") accented Henry rushing through multiple cigarette hijackings in a single day. Even contemporary pieces scored peak events. By blasting punk anthem "Monkey Man" as Jimmy commits narrow escapes, Scorsese links anarchic rebellion with the mob‘s outlaw life.
Several songs directly frame female characters through Henry‘s male gaze. We first view mistress Janice Rossi dancing seductively in a pink babydoll nightgown to The Rolling Stones‘ carnally suggestive "Memo from Turner." Gorgeous yet materialistic, she embodies Henry‘s achieved wealth, privilege, and most shamefully – his warped view of women as sexual objects and fashionable accessories. Likewise, Henry’s courtship of wife Karen plays out through pop singer Bobby Vinton crooning "Blue Velvet" – the mystical illusion of love transforms them both into blissful romantic archetypes, ignoring her addiction issues.
Of course, no song synergizes more iconically with "Goodfellas” than Crystals’ "And Then He Kissed Me." Used repetitiously, it scores Henry and Karen’s growing romance in beatific fashion, culminating in marriage. Lyrics speak blatantly to blossoming love – yet astute fans realize Karen relates her side much later in divorcing Henry. The Crystals‘ innocence thus ironically mock Henry‘s immaturity and selfishness regarding true intimacy. Even music rightly considered sweet and romantic condemns Henry through arrogant misappropriation.
Scorsese‘s precise arrangement of the soundtrack generates far more symbolic meaning than incidental background setting. Songs operate contrapuntally, adding depth unspoken by characters or conveyed visually onscreen. Integrating musical cues so thoroughly within "Goodfellas" ultimately showcases Scorsese as consummate auteur blending sight, sound and subtitle in singular harmony. Removing a single note unravels the entire tapestry.
The Importance of Capturing Military Precision
In the celebrated Steadicam tracking shot introducing mobsters entering Copacabana nightclub, Scorsese pioneered technical innovation in pursuit of authenticity. The Scene‘s complexity required extensive rehearsals, precise choreography mapping character movements to exact scripted locations and cues. By the eighth master take, even Scorsese‘s legendary perseverance nearly gave out.
Yet this sequence‘s very complexity informs its success – as critic Roger Ebert noted, the entire shot unfolds "like a military operation" for good reason. Copacabana serves as genesis scene for Henry Hill captivated by the gangster elite lifestyle. But layer beneath the glamour and Henry realizes they receive VIP service by strategically greasing key levers of power beforehand along the entire chain. Corrupt doormen assure prime seating; officials look aside, customed to graft inducing their cooperation.
Thus the operation behind that shot echoes the gangster system itself – meticulous pre-planning and strategic relationships smoothly clear obstacles from privilege‘s path. But while Henry rhapsodizes entering the club as "Something out of a movie," we glimpse the orchestration sustaining that fantasy. Scorsese subtly exposes cracks in the mob‘s sporting facade.
Furthermore, the lack of edits allows reactions to unfold naturally in real-time. Viewers share Henry‘s exhilaration entering Copacabana‘s grandiosity, elevated through unbroken movement, heightening suspense anticipating something will disrupt this opulent display. When nothing impedes access, their control looks simultaneously intoxicating and bulletproof.
Scorsese‘s technique often drew comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock‘s "Rope,” which similarly used long takes for claustrophobic tension. But where Hitchcock built suspense awaiting disaster, Scorsese leaves the violence offscreen. The crushing price of power displays itself afterwards through Henry and Tommy‘s indifference murdering a young man that very night over an offhand insult. Violence bubbles under the surface. Scorsese‘s steadiest focus pulls our eye towards these deeper sins.
The however romantic allure remains undimmed for Henry Hill, who will pursue it towards his own destruction. Through virtuoso extended takes, we cannot tear our gaze away from that destruction in progress.
The Crucial Role of Profanity for Character Authenticity
Featured prominently in "Goodfellas” due to Scorsese refusing to sanitize mobster dialects, profanity became a lightning rod for early criticism. One referee counted 297 uses of "f**k" alone prompting condemnation by the American Family Association for indecent content. Scorsese pushed back, arguing swear selectivity would undermine authenticity.
"These characters would use such language in their homes and their hearts." Scorsese defended flatly. ” …To alter the way they spoke would be just as dishonest." In crafting a milieu where violence punctuates every transaction, blunt words complement the physical threat. Characters convey clear messages without spelling details explicitly. And in precarious spheres where one wrong gesture leaves you dead, staying composed before open aggression signifies true nerve.
Does unfiltered vernacular excuse moral audiences though? Comparing gangster films to spaghetti westerns, famed critic Pauline Kael noted villains’ swearing historically demonstrated “unfettered pugnacity.” Spotlighting Tommy’s proclivity unleashing derogatory barrages links feelings of power with abusive behavior. Henry hurling insults during a blowout fight with Karen reveals his base view of women.
There are limits. Scorsese bowed to market pressure avoiding racial slurs or gratuitous sexual descriptors present in Wiseguy. Dialogue conveyed cruelty sufficiently without those elements. But pulling punches with common obscenities risked losing that crucial balance between dark dreams fulfilled and nightmares unmasked. For street thugs playing at gentlemen‘s games, the crudeness pouring out once backs turn cannot help but betray the boy who remains behind that dragon’s mask.
Conclusion
In many ways, "Goodfellas” defined itself equally through what audiences didn’t see left on the cutting board as through remaining footage. The pressing violence and simmering psychoses writers witnessed – too disturbing to forget – set the stage for groundbreaking cinema. Such devoted verisimilitude to puppeteering evil, through systemized corruption or individual moral surrender, shakes faith in underlying decency. Perhaps Scorsese’s harshest lesson emerges less that evil exists in plain sight, than that good men stand silent while it proliferates.
Yet for all its bleak amorality, "Goodfellas” retains intimacy sharing camaraderie amongst characters recognizable still as human. We comprehend their wants and perceived needs, even as means corrupt ends. In Tommy‘s savage power plays and Jimmy‘s paranoid betrayals, Scorsese reveals social outcasts who first fell for the romance promised those bold enough to claim it. The tragedy unfolds through grasping that America‘s dream, decayed beyond redemption, rots its seekers from within. The spirits Henry damned echoed those of aspiring crooks and kings alike.
By documenting Henry Hill‘s desire undergoing putrefaction until only masochistic self-delusion persists, the frightening appeal of "Goodfellas” possibly owes less to crimes portrayed than the exposure of truths about ourselves we‘d rather ignore. Without moral consequences, vapid materialism and ego readily transform ordinary people into parasites and predators. We all might bend under hunger for status, wealth or esteem.
In fighting for scenes cementing that reality, and losing key battles preserving others equally vital, Martin Scorsese ensured "Goodfellas” savagely deglamorized gangster kingpins as figures ultimately pathetic and profane. Yet the reasons why vulnerable souls still hustle to that tin crown remains the same. And Scorsese’s genius stems precisely from asking this of his cameras as much as his characters:
In taking that dream down, where shall the curtain fall within each of our hearts? Will you glimpse in Tommy‘s rages, Henry‘s desire for connection, shreds of yourself carved bloodied on their fateful paths?