Martin Scorsese

Martin Scorsese makes films about guilt and redemption, machismo and grace, and the chart underneath is exactly that combustible mix. Born in New York on 17 November 1942, he carries the Sun in Scorpio, the Eagle at the core, the god of death and rebirth whose whole shining comes through transformation, through the phoenix rising from the ashes. You can feel that Scorpionic stare in every anti-hero he ever filmed, the man who reads people and sees trouble coming from miles away. That Sun sits in the second house, the house of values and lasting worth, and his are timeless things: five films in the National Film Registry, a body of work that only appreciates with the years.

His Moon in Pisces is the sponge of a moon, the ultimate empath with divine-level imagination and artistic talent, the source of his tenderness toward the wounded, the Catholic ache in Mean Streets and Silence. It sits in the sixth house of daily labour and craft, so his peace of mind lives in the work itself, the perfectionist's endless attention to the cut. Libra rises, the Venus-ruled mask of beauty and balance, the fine eye for symmetry and composition that makes each frame a painting. Guilt, beauty, and relentless craft: the great chronicler of the American soul.