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When he declared that the world (and everything in it) was coming to him, the audience cheered. When he shot Robert Loggia (that chazzer) the audience cheered. When he wore a white brimmed ladies’ hat and flirted with Michelle Pfeiffer the audience cheered. But when he got blown away by a sawed-off shotgun at the end, the audience cheered at that, too. When people say they love Scarface, they love every bit of Scarface.
The Oliver Stone-penned, Brian De Palma-directed rags-to-riches fable is 35 years old, and an anniversary screening at the Tribeca film festival was a reminder that this vulgar, brutal and, um, powdery gangster tale is every bit as entertaining as you remember.