This is my Nineties Friday blog for 1/9/26, and today I’m writing about Goodfellas (1990). When people talk about the greatest films ever made, this movie isn’t a debate point, it’s a benchmark. Released in 1990, Goodfellas didn’t just define gangster films for the decade, it set a standard that most movies still can’t touch.
The film follows Henry Hill’s rise and fall inside the Italian American mob, starting as a kid who just wants to belong and ending as a paranoid wreck with nothing left. What makes Goodfellas work is how honest it is about why the life is seductive. It doesn’t pretend these guys are misunderstood heroes, but it also doesn’t insult the audience by ignoring why power, money, and respect pull people in.
Martin Scorsese is in complete control from the opening scene. The pacing never drags, the energy never drops, and the camera constantly feels like it’s moving with intention. The famous Copacabana shot isn’t there to show off, it’s there to show status. In a few minutes, you understand exactly why Henry believes this life is unbeatable.
Ray Liotta’s Henry Hill is perfect because he isn’t larger than life. He’s observant, ambitious, and quietly greedy. He’s not the toughest guy or the craziest guy, he’s the guy who wants the lifestyle without thinking about the cost. That makes his eventual collapse feel earned instead of tragic.
Joe Pesci’s performance as Tommy DeVito is legendary for a reason. He’s hilarious one second and horrifying the next. The unpredictability is what makes him terrifying. You’re never sure if he’s joking or about to kill someone, and neither are the characters on screen. Pesci didn’t just play a gangster, he created one of the most dangerous personalities ever filmed.
The soundtrack deserves its own praise. The music choices perfectly match the eras and the emotional tone of each phase of the story. As the film moves closer to the end, the editing tightens, the music becomes frantic, and the viewer feels Henry’s paranoia. That final stretch is one of the best depictions of mental unraveling in film history.
What separates Goodfellas from a lot of crime movies is the ending. There’s no glory, no redemption arc that feels fake. Henry survives, but he loses everything that made him feel important. He doesn’t get punished in a cinematic way, he gets punished in a realistic one. He becomes ordinary, and that’s the real nightmare.
Goodfellas (1990) is endlessly rewatchable because it respects the audience. It doesn’t preach, it shows. It understands human nature, temptation, loyalty, and ego better than almost any film in its genre. From my point of view, it isn’t just one of the best movies of the 1990s, it’s one of the greatest films of all time, and that status is fully earned.
