The Making of Scarface and the “Lost” Images

The impact of Scarface on American culture – for better or worse – is undeniable.

Albert Gonzalez, the Miami cyber thief accused of stealing 130 million credit card numbers, was described by the press as “the Tony Montana of credit card theft.” During a press conference in North Miami Beach in July, the chief of police held up a Scarface movie poster found in a gang member’s home. And in 2006, Shaquille O’Neal celebrated his 34th birthday with a Scarface-themed party.

Just a few blocks from where the chainsaw scene on Ocean Drive was filmed, tourists can still find all manner of Scarface memorabilia at souvenir shops. Not bad for a movie that some Miamians reviled before a single frame was shot.

Miami: A Retirees’ Paradise or a Cocaine Smuggler’s Hideaway?

Two years before Miami Vice and three years before Bruce Weber posed models on the Breakwater Hotel rooftop, Ocean Drive was a mile-long stretch of rundown hotels with faded paint and dimly-lit lobbies. Signs boasted: “Fully Air Conditioned,” “Daily Maid Service,” “24-hour switchboard.”

The hotels’ elderly occupants escaped the summer heat by lounging on shaded porches, chatting in lawn chairs. At night, the streets belonged to petty criminals, junkies, and newly arrived Mariel refugees.

When Scarface Came to Town

In April 1983, director Brian De Palma filmed a violent scene on Ocean Drive between 7th and 8th Streets. His remake of the 1930s gangster classic starred Al Pacino as Tony Montana, a Cuban refugee turned Miami drug kingpin.

Though De Palma had planned to film the entire movie in South Florida, threats and opposition from city commissioner Demetrio Perez forced most production to Los Angeles. Only a few exteriors would be shot in Miami.

A Photographer’s Perspective

I was an amateur photographer in 1983, working at a Collins Avenue condominium. Hearing about the filming, I grabbed my Nikon FM2 and headed straight for the action.

Cameras were readied, electricians laid heavy cables, and the street was closed to traffic. Across from the Beacon Hotel, I found a grassy spot and began shooting roll after roll of black-and-white Tri-X film as Al Pacino ran through multiple takes, firing a gun in a dramatic chase.

As the afternoon light faded, a dummy replaced the actor. Pacino aimed, the technician flicked a switch, and the dummy’s head exploded. I captured it ALL – a shot no other Miami photographers got.

The “Lost” Photos

I called the Miami Herald, hoping for publication. They processed my film, but an editor killed the photo, fearing it would inflame Cuban readers on the anniversary of the Mariel boatlift. One image eventually ran in the Miami News, and the Associated Press later purchased several others.

This was my foot in the door to photojournalism, leading to decades of coverage in South Florida.

Why Scarface Endures

More than 25 years later, Scarface remains a cult classic. Rapper Scarface told USA Today in 2003:

“Me and (Montana) went through the same stuff, going from nothing to something. I’m just not dead. For years to come, that movie will be relevant because it’s the truth.”

New Jersey blogger Kris Seals adds:

“America is a ‘Scarface’ society, meaning that if you die and are evil, it’s considered just peachy as long as people like you and you make a lot of money.”

Whether you love it or hate it, Scarface cemented its place in Miami history – on screen, in culture, and in the memories of those lucky enough to witness it firsthand.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published on September 12, 2009. Updated in 2026; with Bill Cooke's original perspective preserved.