To be fair a lot of his late period films have all been very long...I've still not watched Wolf of Wall Street because I've never got a three hour slot where there's nothing else to be done. It's like once directors are so venerated, nobody can say no to them, nobody to reign in the indulgence...see also Tarantino, Quentin...
That woman died* - I can't remember her name, but I think she was his editor, or served as his de facto editor, and seemed to rein him in a bit. But the whole appeal with him (for me) is his fearless propensity for gonzo ideas - without some polish and self-control (which that woman seemed to provide), it can strike some like your good self (I think) as his self-indulgence. I quite like it, though
* As always, take that with a grain of salt - fuck knows if it was a woman, or if she died, or if she even knew Tarantino. I have previous in being wildly incorrect.
