The Age of Innocence

Life in the New York of the eighteen-seventies may have been constrained, but it was never dull—not if Scorsese’s camera is anything to go by.

Joanne Woodward's narration is soothing without ever being folksy, while the closing scene, a shattering portrait of unbearable poignancy and regret, remains one of Scorsese's strongest endings...

The Age of Innocence is a luxurious work of art.

A consistent spellbinder, laying bare its inhabitants' follies and furies with a tender touch and a vigilant quietude that accumulates into a grand force.

Following Wharton's example, Scorsese accepts The Age of Innocence's flamboyantly wealthy and corrupt characters as they are without indulging in fashionably retrospective editorializing.

I don't know any of those [prior] versions, and I wonder how (which means I doubt that) they avoided the snare that Wharton unwittingly set for her adapters, the snare that, for all his gifts, caught Scorsese.

A movie of stolen moments, arranged meetings and outright lies, The Age of Innocence is potentially anything but what that title suggests.

Scorsese has made 42 features but is mostly known for his six movies about organized crime. With “Age,” Scorsese stepped far out of his comfort zone and delivered one of the finest films, not only of his career, but from anyone over the last 50 years.

... a magnificent piece of filmmaking, rich and textured and at times lovingly mannered as Scorsese appropriates and integrates silent movie devices into his yesteryear portrait.

Few endings are as important to the final perception of a movie as is the ending of The Age of Innocence. Martin Scorsese is obsessed with all the timelines of New York, and Daniel Day-Lewis is from another planet. Full review in Spanish