Some movies have fueled my creativity and inspired me to write my first short stories, and Scarface is definitely one of those life-changing films. I first saw it as a young teenager, and it hit me hard—maybe I was too young to fully handle a movie like that, which might be why it’s so vivid in my memory. I’ve rewatched it a few times since then, and each time, I’m drawn back in, bracing myself for the intense chainsaw scene. Al Pacino’s performance is unforgettable, capturing a character who’s both a flawed hero and a ruthless villain, ultimately his own worst enemy. And then there’s Michelle Pfeiffer’s Elvira, a mix of elegance and sharp wit—still one of the most stunning characters on screen.
With Oliver Stone on screenplay, Brian De Palma directing, Martin Bregman producing, and Al Pacino starring, this movie has a dream team behind it, a winning quartet for this cult classic gangster film. That was the first impact Scarface had on me. Back then, I didn’t even know Scarface was a remake of Howard Hawks’ 1932 gangster classic, so when I discovered the original, I experienced what I call my “second impact.” I found myself just as impressed with Armitage Trail’s novel and Ben Hecht’s screenplay. Tony Camonte from the original and Tony Montana from the remake are similar—two men with different eras and ambitions, yet parallel paths, both played remarkably by Paul Muni and Al Pacino.
Although Elvira is not the same as Poppy (Poppy seems more drawn to Tony Camonte, while Elvira’s attraction to Tony Montana is… complicated), both movies pull you in with the rise and downfall of each Tony. The final scenes are different yet deliver a similar message: each Tony decides the terms of his own fall. Both films faced censorship battles, but in the end, Howard Hawks and De Palma were able to release their versions uncensored. Scarface is not only wildly entertaining; it’s a masterpiece—and at nearly three hours, the remake is worth every minute.
So, naturally, I had to samaze Al Pacino in Scarface. Fans might notice a subtle difference in my work below—no “yayo,” just an “X.”