My Favorite 4 Female Characters in Martin Scorsese's Movies

Much of Martin Scorsese’s work revolves around the male psyche and male characters.  Many often critique this singular focus, overlooking the female perspectives, feminine subtext, and context of his films. Though Scorsese has a clear penchant for depicting male centralized pictures, his features would be nothing without his conscientious inclusion of the feminine paradigms, characters, and personas in his work. Yes, there is a predominantly male focus in the majority of his movies, but there is also a balanced female counterpoint in these pieces that remain integral and pertinent to the final, conclusive product. To say that Scorsese is ‘sexist’ or ‘misogynistic’ is absurd - to describe some of his male characters with the latter adjectives is perfectly fine. He is merely depicting and portraying worlds that he knows and, since people love to talk about what they know, or - in this case - creatively film what they know, it is fitting that someone with such a unique and rare comprehension of the world deliver that knowledge in his work. It’s as though he creates pictures that he, himself, would want to see, while incorporating characters that fascinate him rather than ones that seamlessly identify with his own personality and gender views. And with every intriguing male character he includes in his movies comes a female counterpart equally as essential to the meaning and overarching thematic undertones present in the respective work. Conversely, with every central female character comes a male or categorical group of men to counterbalance the prevailing essence of femininity exuding the particular feature. No matter the primary perspective, whether male or female, Scorsese maintains the gender integrity of his work by consistently incorporating varying psychological dimensions of men and women and their opposing voices. When the main character is a man coming to terms with his disputing inner voices and external conflicts, there is always a woman to help define this world and reality more evenly and precisely. Similarly, when the main character is a woman coping with daily obstacles and the friction between herself and her world, there is always a male voice or masculine perspective to balance the specific picture’s humanity. Yes, the majority of Scorsese’s art explores masculine identity, but this is more a result of his own artistic awareness of the male experience, not a disregard, disrespect, or dislike of the female experience as suggested through his provision of exceptional roles for women in his range of work. There are so many great female characters in the movies of Martin Scorsese, and characters that should not be overlooked simply because of arguments insinuating unconscious, artistic tones of sexism and misogyny. Do not mistake a misogynistic male character for a misogynistic male director. So, with that said, here are some of my favorite female roles as depicted by Scorsese...

Ellen Burstyn as Alice Hyatt in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974)

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974) is probably one of Martin Scorsese’s most feminist pieces, revolving around the psychology of a woman who just lost her husband, seeking internal/redemptive freedom while taking care of her young son and dealing with the losses and triumphs of unpredictable romance. Themes of female survivorship, motherhood, and gender equality dominate the feature, and the delicious little depiction of female resilience, perseverance, and strength resonates with the audience long after its viewing. Burstyn rightly won the Best Actress Oscar for her remarkable work here, and I’m curious to see if Scorsese and this leading lady will collaborate on anything again in the future.

Juliette Lewis as Danielle Bowden in Cape Fear (1991)

In this remake of 1962’s Cape Fear, Juliette Lewis portrays a young girl tackling the hardships of high school and the pubescent obstacles facing girls of that age and generation. The realism with which Lewis portrays Danielle Bowden is as striking as it is captivating, especially as a new-18-year-old actress. One of the most poignant scenes in the movie, in which Robert De Niro’s Max Cady manipulatively seduces Ms. Bowden, remains one of the most chillingly creepy and disturbing ten minutes in horror history, with Cady’s death sequence coming a close second. Lewis’ gorgeous narration and clear ability to hold her own in the various dramatic, horror, and action scenes of Cape Fear allows this role a canonical place in Scorsese’s list of iconic characters, regardless of gender.

Cathy Moriarty as Vickie La Motta in Raging Bull (1980)

The intrinsic nature of Vickie LaMotta in Raging Bull is complicated, unnerving, and definitively human. In lesser hands, this role would have come across as purely supportive to Robert De Niro’s Jake LaMotta, but Moriarty makes it her own with an intelligent and quick-humored performance, balancing perfectly with her male lead counterpart. She is able to cultivate a particular level of audience empathy to a somewhat detestable character, even after her various, underhanded choice of actions - like sleeping with her husband’s brother - could alienate some viewers. Yes, Vickie lives in a man’s world, and is just as bad as all of the men portrayed in Raging Bull, including Jake LaMotta himself. The ugliness of Vickie, however, is balanced with the sweetness she exudes during Jake’s courtship of her and the ultimate sequence depicting the building of their lives together. There are several sides to Vickie, and this multifaceted role is what makes this character one to remember.

Diahnne Abbott as Rita Keane in The King of Comedy (1982)

Though this is a fairly small role, Diahnne Abbott completely rocked it as Rita Keane in The King of Comedy. All of the cringeworthy and hard-to-watch-moments as provided by Robert De Niro’s Rupert Pupkin become easier to stomach with the normalcy and ordinariness of Rita Keane. She is calm, collected, and cool, offering a breath of fresh air against the outrageousness of Pupkin’s consistently unbearable persona. When Pupkin breaks into his idol’s home, Abbott is able to balance his palpable desperation with a necessary naivete and fundamental, subtle awareness. This allows the utter sadness of Pupkin’s character, who we come to pity at various points in the feature - and especially when he trespasses into the house of his hopeful mentor - to remain slightly more bearable to watch. Her sense of sanity and self is a much needed slice of normalcy in a feature that so fearlessly encapsulates idiocy, desperation, and, well, the darkness of comedy.