Despite his legendary status, it’s somewhat surprising that Scorsese hasn’t consistently enjoyed massive box office success. It wasn’t until 2004’s “The Aviator” that he achieved a domestic box office gross exceeding $100 million, unadjusted for inflation. His career also includes several financial disappointments. However, box office numbers rarely equate to a film’s quality, particularly when evaluating Scorsese’s work. Interestingly, some of his most acclaimed films were initially considered financial “flops.” These cinematic gems, despite their underwhelming commercial performance, are essential viewing and showcase Scorsese’s prowess as a filmmaker.

There are several reasons why five of Scorsese’s films didn’t soar at the box office, yet they remain significant pieces of his oeuvre. At the time of writing, “The King of Comedy” stands as his lowest-grossing post-1973 directorial effort, excluding documentaries, and by a wide margin. Even films like “Kundun,” which lacked star power, managed to surpass $5 million in domestic earnings, while the 1977 musical “New York, New York” grossed over $13 million in North America. In stark contrast, “The King of Comedy” garnered only $2.53 million, largely due to its limited release by 20th Century Fox in 1982, despite having a production budget of $19 million. The film was shown in just 76 American theaters.

To put this in perspective, movies from 1983 like “Return of the Jedi” and “Staying Alive” were screened in over 1,700 theaters. Among films that didn’t reach triple-digit theater counts that year, “The King of Comedy” was the second-highest-grossing, trailing only “Tender Mercies.” This limited theatrical exposure sealed its fate as a box office underperformer. It’s unfortunate that more audiences couldn’t witness the captivating story of Rupert Pupkin (played by Robert De Niro) in theaters. The film, a mesmerizing dark comedy, remains a sharp critique of society’s obsession with fame and approval.

At the time of writing, the lowest-grossing post-1973 Martin Scorsese directorial effort (exempting his documentary titles) is “The King of Comedy,” and by a considerable margin. Even titles like “Kundun,” which had no recognizable movie stars, exceeded $5 million domestically, while his infamous 1977 musical misfire “New York New York” cleared $13 million in North America. In contrast, “The King of Comedy” only grossed $2.53 million, a haul that can be almost entirely chalked up to how it was barely released by 20th Century Fox back in 1982. Despite costing $19 million to produce, the studio only released “The King of Comedy” in 76 American theaters.

For comparison’s sake, other films from 1983, such as “Return of the Jedi” and “Staying Alive,” reached more than 1,700 theaters. Among films from that year that never reached triple-digit theater counts, “King of Comedy” was the second-biggest film of the year, only behind “Tender Mercies.” This lack of a proper theatrical footprint ensured “The King of Comedy” would never be profitable theatrically. It’s a shame more folks couldn’t experience the saga of Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro) on the big screen, because the movie remains a transfixing dark comedy that skewers the importance people place on fame and “likability.”

“The King of Comedy” follows Pupkin’s desperate desire for a comedy career, ultimately kidnapping a late-night talk show host (Jerry Lewis) to achieve it. The toe-curling cringe comedy in Pupkin’s uncomfortable and self-serving interactions with everyone around him is impeccably awkward, as is De Niro’s unflinching performance. The film bombed in theaters, but Scorsese had the last laugh thanks to the timeless excellence and influence of the film.

Every night in New York City is wild, especially when you’re an ambulance driver like “Bringing Out the Dead” lead, Frank Pierce (Nicolas Cage). Challenged in his personal life, the various people and co-workers he rubs shoulders with throughout the film (including a memorable John Goodman) illuminate new corners of both his psyche and his history. It’s an extremely dark film that, even with Scorsese’s esteemed reputation, was never going to be a mainstream hit. The qualities that make “Bringing Out the Dead” such an evocative classic (like its morally complex characters and fluid movement between reality and fantasy) are also just the sort of elements that general audiences tend to overlook.

Costing $32 million to make and starring Cage just a few years after he won his “Leaving Las Vegas” Best Actor Oscar, “Bringing Out the Dead” grossed only $16.64 million domestically. If the comparatively more accessible “Fight Club” was also flopping around the same time in 1999, then there was no way something as artsy and grim as “Bringing Out the Dead” had a hope of connecting with audiences. Scorsese also later claimed that the film’s initially more tepid critical reception helped doom it at the box office.

Decades later, though, “Bringing Out the Dead” is revered for its unforgettable performances, eclectic soundtrack, and precisely-constructed atmosphere of death, all of which have far overshadowed its financial shortcomings. This remarkable film, the final collaboration between Scorsese and “Taxi Driver” writer Paul Schrader, has propulsive energy and striking camerawork to spare, not to mention a Nicolas Cage performance for the ages.

Martin Scorsese’s filmography is dominated by harrowing features, such as “Killers of the Flower Moon” and “Raging Bull,” that more than reward audiences who can stomach the on-screen chaos. Joining “Hugo” and “The Age of Innocence” among the striking tonal deviations from that norm, though, is 1985’s “After Hours,” another weird movie with a late-night narrative like “Bringing Out the Dead.” This was Scorsese’s attempt at a grim chuckle-fest that had shades of screwball comedy elements, with Joseph Minion’s screenplay following uptight New Yorker Paul Hackett (Griffin Dunne) as he faces endless difficulties over one night in the Big Apple. He never has enough change for public transportation, he’s constantly getting chased by angry mobs, and even gets encased in plaster.

The ever-escalating mayhem is a total riot, especially since Scorsese and cinematographer Michael Ballhaus film nighttime New York against captivatingly lived-in backdrops and with tremendously specific blocking. It doesn’t hurt that the incessant silliness loops back around to capturing slices of New York reality typically ignored by many films of the era, including the city’s queer population. All this entertainment wasn’t enough to transform the production into a lucrative enterprise, though.

“After Hours” didn’t lose too much money in its theatrical run, but it was no massive hit either, as it grossed only $10.67 million domestically. Like “The King of Comedy,” it was never given much of a theatrical footprint (its peak theater count was only 503 locations), so there was only so high “After Hours” could go domestically. Scorsese’s bold tonal shift inspired more artistic riches than piles of money.

Few movies have had as torturous a lead-up to their theatrical release as “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Because this film portrayed Jesus Christ (Willem Dafoe in one of his best movie roles) succumbing to very human impulses (he even has sex with a woman in a dream sequence), a slew of religious and conservative groups lambasted the project’s very existence. Books like “Hollywood Under Siege: Martin Scorsese, The Religious Right, and the Culture Wars” claimed that throngs of protestors even included Klu Klux Klan members. Eventually, several movie theater chains simply refused to screen “The Last Temptation of Christ” because of the protests. All this madness ensured that the $7 million budgeted “The Last Temptation of Christ” only grossed $8.37 million domestically. 

Gaze beneath the box office numbers and mid-’80s hysteria, though, and one sees that “The Last Temptation of Christ” isn’t just a movie — it’s one of the artistic pinnacles of Scorsese’s entire career. The entire production hinges on fusing realistic intricacies of everyday life (including the complicated dynamic shared between Jesus and Judas) with a story and characters usually treated with straightforward hagiographic depictions on film. Scorsese restores the humanity to Jesus Christ, a process that Dafoe’s excellent lead performance also accomplishes. 

Though known for his iconic maximalist turns in titles like “The Lighthouse,” Dafoe is stunningly down-to-earth with his achingly real portrait of Jesus. No amount of box office turmoil or pre-release sniping could diminish the immense artistry informing every frame of “The Last Temptation of Christ.”

It was already clear that “Silence” wouldn’t have much of a chance at the box office because of the barely existent marketing campaign Paramount Pictures threw together for the movie. The first “Silence” trailer dropped just 31 days before the feature began its North American theatrical run. Not since 2011’s “The Big Year” had a major studio film dropped a trailer for a theatrical release so last-minute. Unsurprisingly, “Silence” only grossed $7.1 million domestically, a haul that was lower than the North American gross of “The Last Temptation of Christ” even before taking inflation into account. This $46.5 million budgeted movie was a bust at the box office, but certainly not in its artistic quality.

Religious-themed cinema has always been a fascinating creative avenue for Martin Scorsese, one of the kings of Catholic cinema. “Silence” finds Andrew Garfield going full method actor as Father Rodrigues and Adam Driver delivering a great performance as Father Francisco Garrpe, two priests on a mission to 17th-century Japan to save their mentor (Liam Neeson in one of his best movies).

Like “The Last Temptation of Christ,” the 2016 film subverts the standard easy moralizing of typical faith-based movies for something more complex and challenging. What does it mean or look like to hold faith? How can a Godly life materialize? What are the consequences of imperialist religious missions? Such gripping concepts are told through richly detailed period-appropriate production design and costumes. There’s an epic scope to this endeavor (especially when viewed on a big screen) that fascinatingly contrasts with the intimate theological material in the script. Perhaps with a proper marketing campaign, more audiences could’ve discovered the masterful craftsmanship fueling “Silence,” one of Scorsese’s greatest achievements.