Robert De Niro’s Best, Worst and Craziest Performances

There are lame romantic comedies, and then there’s Hindenburg of a movie, in which De Niro and Diane Keaton play exes who pretend to still be married for their adopted son’s wedding to an extremely devout Catholic. (Long story, but no, it doesn’t make much sense in the movie either.) Guess whose relationship is rekindled? Wackiness ensues…except that it doesn’t, given that this is totally generic, predictable, middle-of-the-road goo. It’s one of the worst films De Niro has made in recent years – all the more frustrating because he actually makes an effort to give some life to the script’s tired, unfunny jokes. BE

Kenneth Branagh’s histrionic adaptation of the classic Gothic horror novel goes all the way to 11: It’s so over-the-top, so stylized, and so filled with booming, scenery-chewing performances that you kind of can’t help but admire it – even though it’s never, ever convincing. And De Niro, as “The Creation” (aka Frankenstein’s Monster), is actually quite touching as a broken half-man aware of his existential predicament. The disconnect between his quiet pathos and the rest of the film’s manic energy is distracting, though bonus points to whoever did his stitched-together-from-corpses make-up job. BE

One of De Niro’s greatest roles is also one of the few times he played a criminal without trying to lend him any nuance or humanity. As a tubby, preening, big-talking Al Capone, our man Bob is both monstrous and comical, like a character out of one of the mobster’s beloved operas. But what comes through most in the performance is contempt: This is a man who thinks very little of everyone around him. It’s perfect for the movie, too; the more ruthless Capone seems, the more we root for Kevin Costner’s Elliot Ness to do everything he can to bring him down “the Chicago way.” It’s a performance of shockingly urgent villainy. BE

In this unconvincing, nonsensical thriller, Cillian Murphy and Sigourney Weaver play paranormal investigators who specialize in uncovering hoaxes perpetrated by people alleging to have experienced supernatural occurrences. De Niro plays a famous blind psychic who might turn out to be the real deal. He camps it up like nobody’s business, which actually seems to be a wise decision given the sheer ridiculousness of this film. Alas, everyone else seems to be taking everything very seriously — which just leaves the Oscar-winning star choking on the chewed-up scenery. BE

Funny thing: Director Neil Jordan’s much-derided Christmas comedy about two hoodlums (De Niro and Sean Penn) hiding out as priests in a town near the Canadian border is not as bad as its reputation. (This is an atmospheric Neil Jordan movie with a screenplay by David Mamet, based on a Humphrey Bogart classic – really, that’s worth something right there.) It is, however, a very strange film, not the least of which is because of all the relentless over-acting of its two leads. One senses that De Niro in particular is trying to channel the spirit of Bogie, complete with old-school tough-guy affectations. (That voice!) But the result isn’t so much funny as it is straight-up surreal. BE

“Better to be king for a night than schmuck for a lifetime.” This is how Rupert Pupkin justifies his scheme to kidnap a late-night talk show host (Jerry Lewis) and negotiate himself as his replacement in Martin Scorsese’s jet-black comedy about ambition and celebrity. In De Niro’s hands, Rupert’s delusions of grandeur toggle between the identifiable failings of a never-will-be comedy superstar and the ultimate manifestation of our psychotic obsession with fame. Though The King of Comedy flopped, Rupert has since become a touchstone for stand-up comedians who see him as their worst image of themselves — an awkward, desperate, pathetic hack clinging fiercely to the business of show. ST

De Niro playing a mob boss? Not a stretch. Nor it is a particularly big part in this lackluster thriller — he’s simply drop in for a second and hires John Cusack to pick up a mysterious bag — but the veteran actor is there more to lend some authority to the proceedings then anything else. That might have worked back in the days when he was known for his demonic intensity, but nowadays, it just comes off like another paycheck gig. There’s only so much he can do with a part that consists mostly of poorly-written exposition. BE

Don’t puzzle over the name of De Niro’s character, Louis Cyphre, too long: It takes Mickey Rourke’s private eye the entire movie to figure out the identity of the dark — some might say, devilish — client who has enlisted him to track down a dangerous WWII vet in New Orleans. The actor lets his beard do much of the work for him while Rourke acts himself into a spittle-filled fit in reaction to his implacable evil. (“If I had cloven hooves and a forked tail, would I have been more convincing?”) It’s the most dignified role in a thriller that’s overheated even by Big Easy movie standards, and the mark of a career shift when De Niro seemed to realize that he had enough screen presence to carry a scene without so much as shaking a cane. ST

Michael Cimino’s Best Picture winner takes a lot of flak these days – it probably doesn’t help that the director himself famously crashed and burned with his subsequent efforts. But it still holds up remarkably well, and that’s largely thanks to De Niro. We knew he had range, but this is something else: As one of a group of friends who leave their Pennsylvania steel mill town for Vietnam, he starts off as a practical, no-nonsense good old boy. As the war changes him into, first, a sociopath, then a broken man struggling to heal, we realize that we’re watching more than a character: We’re watching an entire generation. BE

Let’s get one thing out of the way first: De Niro’s performance in the first Meet the Parents film, playing Ben Stiller’s highly paranoid and judgmental father-in-law-to-be, is one of his best comedic performances, proving that he could get laughs and be part of comic ensemble without mugging it up. By the time the third film in the series came around, however, De Niro had settled for a lifeless, one-note shtick. In his defense, it’s not like anyone else in this film is trying that hard either. But still. BE

Alfonso Cuarón’s modernized adaptation of the Charles Dickens novel is a puzzling misfire, one of those movies in which a talented cast, a great director, and strong material can’t bring it all together. Still, don’t blame De Niro, who brings full-throated abandon to his portrayal to the convict who terrorizes a child into helping him escape then re-enters his life in a different capacity years later. There’s real menace in his performance in the film’s early scenes, in which he plays the character as a sort-of cross between his Cape Fear villain and a pirate. KP

Scorsese’s hilarious, terrifying epic about the rise and fall of mobster Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) is a feast for every actor involved — and a chance for De Niro to play both cool and collected and violently unhinged. Yes, his Jimmy Conway, the responsible leader of our protagonist’s crew, does occasionally blow up, and it’s electrifying when he does. (Remember the scene where he destroys a phone after hearing that his friend has been whacked?) But it’s an incredibly controlled performance, and what makes the role work is De Niro’s ruthless calm: When his character eventually turns on Henry, he does so in such a calculating, chilling manner that you might have nightmares about it for weeks. BE

The one-joke premise of 1999’s Analyze This cashed in on De Niro’s gangster-movie glower by playing his threats and vulgarity against the bromides offered by Billy Crystal’s lily-livered psychiatrist. But that joke was barely enough to sustain one comedy, let alone two. Which means that the de facto sequel simply leaves his wisecracking wiseguy to curse his way through sitcom fish-out-of-water situations:  strolling through a wake with an open robe, taking customer-service jobs as part of a work-release program, etc. Analyze That even reunites him with his Raging Bull co-star Cathy Moriarty, a reference that only serves to underline how far the mighty have fallen. ST

Before he was a master of the post-Hitchcockian psycho-thriller, Brian De Palma made these two experimental, free-wheeling comedies about youth and counter-culture. And before he was a master of neurotic intensity, De Niro played a lovesick, nebbishy young man whose experiences took him through a cross-section of American society. The films demonstrate that De Niro’s comic abilities were always there, but it’s amazing to see him play an Everyman type — a sort of calm before the Method storm. And he’s surprisingly likable! BE

In what is widely acknowledged as his breakthrough performance, De Niro plays a not-too-bright baseball catcher with a terminal disease, and Michael Moriarty the pitcher who befriends him in his final season. This is the kind of drama that will leave you an utter emotional wreck – and that it does so with such restraint and dignity feels like a magic act. De Niro is the key: He would soon build a career for himself playing deadly loners, but here, he uses his natural reserve to build a character whose loneliness evokes sympathy and reflection, not fear. It’s an almost unbearably moving performance, in an almost unbearably moving film. BE

In this legendarily wretched multi-character romcom, De Niro plays a dying man spending New Year’s Eve with nurse Halle Berry. That doesn’t actually give him much to do, except look terrible and weak and close to death – which could, frankly, be a metaphor for the entire movie. One wants to entertain the notion that his casting is ironic – that there’s a reason that one of the most intense actors of his generation is playing a bedridden, terminal patient. But that would require some evidence that the film has any idea what irony is. BE

De Niro has a small but crucial role in Ron Howard’s drama about crime and firefighting, playing Donald “Shadow” Rimgale — a veteran arson inspector who takes his job seriously. By which, of course, we mean very, very seriously. He deftly underplays the part, as when he quietly shuts down a loony arsonist’s parole hearing with a few simple questions. But Shadow’s calmness belies the life he’s led, as confirmed by one shot of his grotesquely burned torso. De Niro plays the reveal as no big deal, wordlessly establishing Shadow as the sort of tough guy who doesn’t have to make that big a deal about it. Still, we wished he would have played the arsonist’s role, which went to Donald Sutherland; he’d have had a field day with it. KP