Story of a Scene: Long Take at the Copocabana (Goodfellas)

It’s the iconic voice-over line at the beginning of Scorsese’s Goodfellas, the mantra of Henry Hill (Ray Liota) and the embodiment of all that is to come.

And yet, replace the word gangster with film-maker and you could have a quote from the director himself.

Released in 1990 Goodfellas is the near perfect blending of each thematic and stylistic trope which had already made Scorsese a Hollywood legend and a director for whom the term auteur seems to have been made. Lest we forget, this is the man who had delivered Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, King of Comedy, The Color of Money, and The Last Temptation of Christ.

And with Goodfellas, every element of these preceding films comes together to create what is arguably his cinematic masterpiece.

It’s a film with so many quotable moments and memorable scenes that it’s almost churlish to hone in on one in particular.

There’s the genius of the ‘Funny How’ scene, a masterclass in underlying threat delivered by Pesci, alongside Scorsese’s almost unbearably playful use of tension and comedic release. Or, of course, the many moments of devastating violence that simply shock you from your seat on first viewing. They are the elements we perhaps remember; that violent culture which seems to epitomise the world Henry wants to live within.

But that’s not quite right; from the moment we see young Henry on screen, we realise that it’s not a world of violence into which he aspires but something else, something edging closer to glamour, romance, and ultimately power (or respect).

Which brings us to the Copacabana Scene

The film, like the life it portrays, is violent, extremely violent. But Henry doesn’t want to be a gangster for the violence. He wants the life for the privilege, the sense of entitlement and that he’s always a mile ahead of the regular schmoes. This scene perfectly depicts not only the life but every theme in the movie, all rolled into one 3 minute take of genius film making.

Pop Music Soundtrack

The scene opens with the bars to the classic old rock’n’roll track, And Then He Kissed Me, as we see Henry pay a guy to watch his car, the music continuing to play behind the dialogue between Henry and Karen.

It’s classic Scorsese. The music defining the scene and the storytelling. It’s been a staple feature throughout his career.

You can be instantly transported back to his early works, in particular the devastating and ground-breaking entrance of Johnny Boy to the pounding sound of The Stones’ Jumpin’ Jack Flash in Mean Streets. The music tells us so much.

In the Copa scene, we’re instantly put in a time and place while in the same instant given an indication as to what is playing out here; a young man full of his own importance, trying to use his new position and charm to woo the girl.

It’s a sixties date song played out on a sixties date scene. An innocent facade to a deception for which we are all party.

This is Why Henry Wanted to be a Gangster

The scene finds us in the company of Henry as a young man who has begun to make his mark in the organised crime scene, taking his new girlfriend for a night out at the Copacabana, the hottest club in town.

Of course, the club is packed with a huge queue of folk waiting to gain entrance.

Henry however, just takes Karen’s hand and leads her to the side entrance where they’re greeted as royalty, the camera then following them in one long take as they make their way through the kitchens and back areas of the club, into the club itself and then led to a table specifically set up for them in a prime spot near the stage.

It’s a depiction of the young man who feels he’s made it. The sense that he’s a guy who can do what he likes when he likes. That notion of respect born out of fear.

Everyone paying him deference, bowing and scraping before him. Eager to shake his hand, accept his coin (or $20 bill). To hold open a door or, as he gets to the club itself, to personally prepare a table as other guests wait, visibly disgruntled at this man who doesn’t just jump the queue, he doesn’t even register its existence, so certain is he that he can just wander in and do as he wishes.

There’s the playful banter with those he passes, always with an undercurrent of threat through a shark like smile. The fast and loose distribution of cash. Pay your way through and everyone stands aside.

And, finally, the casual deceit, even with someone he genuine seems to like:

“What is it you do?” She asks, bemused but clearly seduced by the idea of being with this man, in this life.

“Construction,” he replies, not missing a beat, not making her eyes.

And of course, she’s not the only one seduced by the sexiness of it all.

The Long Take

Technically the scene is the work, not just of a filmic genius, but a great who’s studied the greats before him. Who knows what he’s doing and why he’s doing it.

A movie-making masterpiece from a man who spent a childhood in awe of cinema’s great visionaries. A scene which pays homage to the iconic long take moments of Hollywood’s glorious past.

The long take, or continual scene, has been a trope used by the great film-makers throughout cinema’s century long history. From Orson Welles opening in Touch of Evil or Hitchcock’s trickery in Rope to the brilliantly knowing opening to Altman’s The Player.

In Goodfellas, the scene is perhaps a deliberate nod to those great pioneers of film-making. But more than that, it’s a technique delivered with a purpose. A moment of visual story-telling that allows us to realise the entire narrative of the film in one condensed moment.

It serves as an overt precursor.

The glorious Alexander The Great moment. The man who has conquered all, got what he wanted, revelling in his supremacy and the romance of this life he’s bought into with his soul.

It’s the scene that makes his final inglorious descent into the punishment of normality such a powerful symbol of a man bereft. A wizard of Oz whose power is shown to be a sham, without the saving grace of kindliness to save him. This scene might be a depiction of Henry Hill at the height of his powers, but equally it’s a bold culmination of a director in complete command of his craft.

The Goodfellas Legacy

It’s hard to ignore the impact that Goodfellas has had on film and the gangster genre in particular. Basing the movie on the accounts of real-life gangster Henry Hill (in the book Wiseguys) Scorsese added an air of authenticity to the staples of a genre that is as old as cinema itself.

If the Godfather re-defined gangster movies through its epic scale in the 70s so Goodfellas altered the path for the 90s. Coppolla may have paved the way for Scorsese. But would Tarantino and the resurgence of 90s Indie cinema have had the same impact, or would The Sopranos ever have seen the light of day, without the pop culturally fused gangster grit of Mean Streets and Goodfellas?

More than three decades on and Scorsese continues to build upon a portfolio of greatness. And while it’s arguable if later films ever quite hit the same high note (although for some I’m sure they did), those familiar tropes remain.

And cinema is all the richer for it.

If you enjoyed this article, there is the option to provide a small tip, no more than the price of a coffee (see tip button below). It would also be amazing if you wanted to get unlimited access to all of my writing on Medium (along with thousands of other amazing writers) by signing-up to a full membership. Click here to upgrade to full Medium membership. Please note that I will receive a commission (at no additional cost to you) if you sign-up via this link.