Sometimes it breaks your heart to be a film-fan and critic in Central Pennsylvania.
For the second time in recent days, I sat virtually alone in the theater watching a well-made thriller that isn’t gonna get the attention it deserves.
First, on a late October Friday, I was the sole viewer at A Talent for Murder, which I liked; and then, just over one week later, it was me and two others for The Only Living Pickpocket in New York.
Which I loved.
Cult-classic veteran John Turturro stars in this handsome, smart and heartfelt mood-piece about an aging pickpocket who suddenly gets in over his head.
Turturro’s hangdog crook is living hand to mouth with his patented “five-finger discount,” which he executes on subway and sidewalk — later calling it a day to care for his severely disabled wife, who can neither move nor speak.
Harry’s an old-school guy who can’t even use a cell-phone — preferring the 20th-century world of vinyl records, polished shoes, instant Sanka and a prized, 45-year-old wristwatch. Yet he’s also willing and able to replace his wife’s catheter — even after carrying her up six flights of stairs. So it’s hard not to root for the guy — especially after he tangles with a snooty young thug and winds up lifting a memory card with an untold stash of crypto-currency.
And the thug is savvy enough to track Harry down with savage efficiency.
Pickpocket is a film of many strengths, starting with Turturro’s low-key, sympathetic work, along with fine support from Steve Buscemi and Breaking Bad’s Giancarlo Esposito — plus a late-film surprise who’s not officially listed in the cast.
That rather unexpected closing constitutes another strength, capped off by a gorgeous final shot of the Manhattan skyline; fading through twilight over the gentle murmurs of the East River, this mesmerizing shot holds for nearly a minute after the closing credits are done. I sat spellbound till the image finally faded.
Indeed, the whole movie looks fantastic. At least one critic has called it a love-letter to New York; and as someone who lived in Manhattan during the 1980s, I found it marvelously nostalgic: crowded, busy, gritty, realistic, multi-layered and beautifully photographed.
Another triumph is Gary Lionelli’s amazing score. Muscular jazz that is somehow both chill and edgy, it perfectly embodies the film’s engaging mix of restraint and suspense. Much of this music — especially “Back to the Bronx,” available on YouTube — is so appealing that I kept wondering if they’d lifted it off some existing jazz album; but no: the ambient score is all original.
Along with some carefully chosen soundtrack cuts extolling NYC, Lionelli’s work elevates Pickpocket to something truly special.
And I’m not alone in my fondness for the film. With a robust 98% approval at Rotten Tomatoes, it deserves more than a handful of viewers.
There’s no reason all those franchises and gross horror knock-offs should keep picking your pocket all year.
