Scarface (1983): B+

Hip-hop’s favorite gangster fantasy, Brian DePalma’s Scarface is a thrillingly opulent, lurid and vulgar – not to mention morally questionable – saga about the criminal corruption of the American dream. Charting brash Cuban émigré Tony Montana’s (Al Pacino) homicidal ascension to white china-fueled power, DePalma’s epic (written by Oliver Stone) revels in its extravagant orgy of drugs, betrayal and four-letter words. An absorbing portrait of the seamier side of the immigrant experience, as well as a slyly ironic vision of America’s still-thriving meritocracy, Scarface nonetheless glorifies its whacked-out protagonist to such absurd degrees that the film – even discounting rappers’ affinity for Montana’s catch phrases and brutal, selfish code of honor – seems like the bible for wannabe crime kingpins. Still, despite its ever-present admiration for the ruthless Montana, there’s so much to savor in DePalma’s extravagantly gonzo classic – Tony’s early chainsaw troubles in a motel bathroom, Michelle Pfeiffer’s wicked ice queen, a Shakespearean finale in which the air becomes thick with blood and bullets – that griping about its debatable depravity interferes with the pleasure of watching this iconic bastard’s savage rise and fall.