Several months ago, Martin Scorsese wowed the world with his latest film, The Wolf of Wall Street. It isn’t the directing, the acting or a brilliantly written, profound script which has the viewing public excited. Critics and filmgoers alike are overwhelmingly dazzled by Scorsese’s greatest cinematic achievement of his career; a record breaking use of the word “fuck.”
“All The F-Words In Wolf Of Wall Street,” The Huffington Post headline impressively screams. “There are 569 variations on the f-word alone, including obscene gems like “f—kity,” “f–kheads” and “f—kface.” Quickly note that these are just not any use of the word ‘fuck.’ According to this critic–these are also “gems!”
It wasn’t just the Huffington Post which was overwhelmed with joy that this vulgar linguistic barrier has finally been breached.
“Wolf of Wall Street Breaks F-Bomb Record“– Variety
“The Wolf Of Wall Street, which features the F-word (and all of its derivatives) 506 times”—The Guardian
This is not the satirical stuff of The Onion either, this is dead serious.
So serious, in fact, that thankfully the online magazine Slate, known for its cutting edge journalism, conducted a thorough, full investigative report on the actual number of times the word “fuck” is used in the Wolf Of Wall Street.
The groundbreaking investigative piece poses the pressing question of our classy era: “Is Wolf Of Wall Street Really The Sweariest Movie Of All Time? A Slate Investigation.”
“Slate’s own tally confirms that Wolf is every bit as profane as it’s made out to be. In fact, it might be more profane: I counted a whopping 544 F-bombs, 38 more than even Wikipedia had listed.”
Such is our fascination and adoration of the word ‘fuck’ that there is an entire Wikipedia page devoted to its sophisticated use within a single film.
It is undeniable, therefore, that Scorsese’s remarkable usage of the F-bomb is the single greatest contribution to literature, theatre or film. In comparison, William Shakespeare now seems laughably primitive and quaint. Although perhaps poetically poignant for its era, Shakespeare no longer reflects the sophistication of an educated and informed Twenty First Century.
Given the historic value and reputation of Shakespeare, however, his work could perhaps salvage some intellectual relevance and contemporary influence through the addition of properly placed f-bombs and other sophisticated language within some modern context.
Here’s an excerpt from Martin Scorsese’s ‘Hamlet.’
Hamlet’s Fucking Speech
To be, or fucking not to be: that is the fucking question.
Whether this fucking shit ’tis nobler in the mind (of a fucktit) to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fucking fortune,
Or to take fucking arms against a sea of fucking troubles, And by opposing end them? To fucking die: to fucking sleep;
No more; and by a fucked sleep to say we end
Fuck-The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
Fuck-That flesh is heir to, ’tis a Goddamn fucking consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To fucking die, to fucking sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: fucking- ay, there’s the fucking rub;
For in that sleep of fucking death what fucking dreams may fucking come
When we have shuffled off this fucking Goddamn mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the fucking respect (Fuckass)
That makes calamity of so long (of) fucking, fucking life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of fucking time,
The fucking asshat oppressor’s fucked up wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised fucking love, the law’s delay,
Fuck-The insolence of office and the spurns
Fuck-That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he fucks himself might his quietus make
With a bare fucking bodkin? Who would fardels fucking bear,
To fucking grunt and fucking sweat under a weary fucking life,
But that the dread of something after fucking death, (fuckwad)
The undiscover’d fucking country from whose bourn
No fucking traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we fucking know not of?
Thus conscience does make fucking cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale fucking cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this fucked regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.–Fuck! Soft you now!
Fuck! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, (fuckfaced bitch) in thy fucking orisons
Be all my fucking sins remember’d.