OCTOBER 25, 1999: Martin Scorsese is America’s greatest living director. This is not to negate the fine work being done by Spike Lee, or Oliver Stone, or Woody Allen, or Steven Spielberg; or the promising starts of Quentin Tarantino, or Paul Thomas Anderson, or Steven Soderbergh. But Martin Scorsese has been making brilliant films since the early 1970’s, and more than any other filmmaker, he has changed the face, the look, and the tone of modern American cinema. I love Martin Scorsese.

In terms of quality, his films tend to fall into three categories: the masterpieces (‘Mean Streets’, ‘Taxi Driver’, ‘Raging Bull’, ‘The Last Temptation of Christ’, ‘GoodFellas’), brilliant works which serve as benchmarks of American film; the mini-masterpieces (‘The Color Of Money’, ‘Casino’, ‘After Hours’) that may not hit quite as hard as the others but still present the inventiveness and energy that make them better than just about anything else out; and the also-rans (‘New York, New York’, ‘The Age of Innocence’, ‘Kundun’), which we like more because we should, because he’s working, than because they’re his best work.

I’m happy to report that Mr. Scorsese’s new picture, ‘Bringing Out The Dead’, is one of his mini-masterpieces; a moving, energetic, unflinching look at a few tough days in the life of a sad man. That it is not causing much commotion at box offices is disappointing but not surprising; it may have as much to do with the subpar quality of star Nicolas Cage’s work as of late (‘8mm’, ‘Snake Eyes’, ‘City of Angels’—all of which at least opened strong) as that Scorsese’s films traditionally underperform at the box office, and are discovered later on video. And like much of his best work, ‘Bringing Out the Dead’ will probably age well, and be appreciated later for the fine film that it is.

Nicolas Cage stars as Frank, an ambulance driver teetering on the edge of sanity, his bravado snapped by a recent streak of losing patients, beginning with a young Hispanic girl whose face haunts him in nightmarish visions. The films follows Frank through a long, hellish weekend, and pairs him with three very different partners (played to the hilt by John Goodman, Ving Rhames, and Tom Sizemore) while he finds himself connecting with the unstable daughter (Patricia Arquette) of a cardiac case he brings in.

Much has been made of the similarities between the new film and Scorsese’s masterpiece ‘Taxi Driver’; though this film is adapted from a novel by Joe Connelly, it is adapted for the screen by ‘Driver’ screenwriter Paul Schrader (this fruitful collaboration also resulted in ‘Raging Bull’ and ‘Last Temptation’). Both films have as their protagonist an unhappy man whose work puts him on the night streets of New York City, and both films have a sympathetic female that the protagonist attempts to save. The similarities are surface, however: ‘Driver’’s Travis Bickle was a man far gone into his own madness, wherein ‘Dead’’s Frank is a man on the edge, who can fall into the abyss or be pulled back. This key difference leads to a different, and in some ways, more powerful ending: that of a man who, instead of lashing out in vengeful violence, reaches deep into his soul and tries to find a peace within.

This ending makes more sense from an older, wiser filmmaker; but don’t let these phrases create an illusion that this is a more relaxed, lower-energy Scorsese. ‘Bringing Out the Dead’ has more than its share of kinetic, high-energy sequences—the master technician is still in. Many of these moments are simple driving sequences, interludes that punctuate the slog of Frank’s work, and they are furiously shot and edited at an absolute fever pitch by Scorsese and director of photography Robert Richardson (who also shot ‘Casino’ and most of Oliver Stone’s films). Richardson’s blown-out light and Scorsese’s joyously roving camera are a perfect fit.

Acting is good across the board; the always-excellent Ving Rhames is in fine form, particularly in an electrifying club sequence where his Bible-thumping paramedic improvises a Lazarus-style raising of an overdosed junkie. John Goodman and Tom Sizemore play Cage’s other partners well; Goodman’s Joe Six-Pack schtick works well to create possibly the most grounded character in the piece, while Sizemore does a very watchable turn of scenery-chewing as the most out-of-control driver on the streets. Arquette doesn’t fair quite as well as the others; she does her best with the role, but the sad tone of her scenes makes them feel hopelessly slow compared with the lightening pace of the rest of the film—though her and Cage’s final scene is really excellent, a fine example of how many last scenes in movies are woefully overwritten (Scorsese finds a perfect image and sticks with it).

And Cage? I must admit, I resisted Nicolas Cage for a long time—I thought most of his screen work before 1994 or so to be mannered, irritating, and just too damn weird (‘Raising Arizona’ and ‘Moonstruck’ being the exceptions). But beginning with ‘It Had to Be You’ and solidifying with ‘Leaving Las Vegas’, I don’t mind saying that I enjoy watching Cage work, though I’ll admit he’s been coasting for a while. I also don’t mind saying that this is his finest performance since his Oscar-winning turn in ‘Leaving’.

Will this fine film find an audience? I hope so, but I’m dubious. Moviegoers have a tendency not to embrace too many dark, thoughtful films at once, and I guess I should be relieved that at least ‘American Beauty’ caught on. But like the best of Scorsese’s work, ‘Bringing Out The Dead’ is a treat for the eyes and ears, and it echoes for a good long while after the film runs out.