Mean Streets (1973) Martin Scorsese

    Every serious film lover sees a film that once in awhile affects you so deeply that it changes your life. You look at the screen and you say to yourself, yes this is what it is all about, this is why I love movies; this is why I sit through so many crappy films searching for the one that moves me to high levels never reached before. “Mean Streets” is one of those films. It is not perfect. It is not Scorsese’s greatest film, it does not have to be, it is what it is, a personal work by a young filmmaker that reflects a time and a place that connected with me deeply.     

    The first Martin Scorsese film I ever saw was “Who That Knocking at My Door” back in September 1969 at the Carnegie Hall Cinema, a movie theater located beneath the famed Carnegie Hall. At the time, the theatre showed mostly art house, foreign, independent and classic films. I was home on leave from the Army, having just completed Basic Training and AIT, trying to avoid thinking about where I was going to be next month (Vietnam) by losing myself  in as many movies as I could. And if you want to lose yourself in movies, New York City is the best place to be other than maybe Paris.

     I must have read a review of the film in a newspaper and the synopsis of a young Italian-American kid living on the streets of Little Italy struggling with life’s complexities (girls, Catholic guilt) appealed to me on a personal level.  The film was amazingly unlike just about any other I had ever seen. The fact that the filmmaker was this Italian-American guy, like me, and he wrote and directed the film made it even more enticing. My wildest fantasies were coming true, only it was Martin Scorsese who was living it.  I never forgot the film or the name Scorsese as I went off to Vietnam, survived and went on with my life, when in 1972; a Roger Corman produced film called “Boxcar Bertha” came out and I noted the director’s name, Martin Scorsese. Hmm…  The film was typical King of the B’s Corman stuff, maybe somewhat better than most of his films filled with the prerequisite amount of violence and sex, all the good things low-budget filmmaking does best.

    Then came October 1973.

    Scorsese wrote the script for “Mean Streets” along with his friend and fellow NYU student, Mardik Martin with whom he collaborated with previously on some of his short films. In his book, Easy Riders, Raging Bulls, author Peter Briskind states the two friends sat in Martin’s Valiant during a cold winter and wrote the script. Much of the story is from Scorsese’s own experiences growing up in Little Italy. During the filming of “Boxcar Bertha” Scorsese tried to interest Corman into financing his next film. However, Corman would agree only if Marty changed all the characters to black. Fortunately, for all he found other financing from Jonathan Taplin, then a road manager for the rock group, “The Band.”   

    Scorsese hired Harvey Keitel to play Charlie Cappa, in time to film the San Gennaro festival, which takes place every October in Little Italy. He then offered Robert DeNiro a choice of any of the other roles in the film. The two originally met when teenagers but did not hang out together, DeNiro the child of two artists, grew up in Greenwich Village though he spent much of his time in the Little Italy neighborhood next door. He had seen Scorsese’s first feature “Who’s That Knocking at my Door” and was impressed with the film’s accurate portrayal of life in Little Italy.  After some discussions and a meeting with Keitel, who suggested he play Johnny Boy, it was settled.

    “Mean Streets” does not have much of a plot; it focuses on Charlie Cappa a small time collector for his Uncle Giovanni (Cesare Danova), the local Don. Charlie also has taken personal responsibility for Johnny Boy, an anarchistic simple-minded hothead who is in debt some two thousands to local loan sharks. Charlie is also having an affair with Johnny Boy’s epileptic cousin Theresa (Amy Robinson).

    Part of what drives “Mean Streets” is the interaction between the two protagonists whose improvised street-wise dialogue has a free form jazz like quality. Just listen to the Joey Clams/Frankie Bones monologue between Charlie and Johnny Boy.  Scorsese encouraged his actors to improvise, much of it worked on during rehearsals, which contributes to the film’s tempo. It helped that along with Scorsese, DeNiro and Keitel, some of the others in the cast grew up in similar New York neighborhoods and were familiar with the type of environment portrayed on screen.

    Little Italy and its inhabitants were an enclave unto themselves, living a mostly separate existence from the rest of the city, insulated from the rest of the world. Outsiders were foreign and not wanted.  Scorsese’s “Mean Streets” shows us a world mixed with the old country and the new, a hybrid that never fully integrated. This is evident even in the superb use of music where the soundtrack combines the old (Opera), the traditional (Italian) and the modern (Rock and Roll).

    Early in the film, Charlie enters a local bar owned by Tony (David Proval), sharply dressed, confident; he is greeted like a king. He dances to the beat of The Rolling Stones “Tell Me”, shaking hands with associates and friends, swaying to the music. Gliding through the room, he makes his way to the stage joining two topless dancers. This is Charlie’s world, he is the center of attention, and he is a man in his element.

    Yet, Charlie is conflicted; he needs to reconcile his Catholic upcoming with his outlaw life. “Taking care” of Johnny Boy is Charlie’s attempt at redemption for his lifestyle. He knows that praying his ten “Hail Mary’s” and ten “Our Fathers” every week after confession is useless. As the voice over (Scorsese) at the beginning of film says, “You don’t pay for your sins in church; you pay for them in the streets.  Charlie is also conflicted with the women in his life. He is attracted to the black topless dancer and arranges a date with her, only when the time comes he stands her up knowing that in his world he can’t get involved with a black woman. He is already involved in a delicate relationship with the epileptic Theresa, who his Uncle disapproves of, telling him she’s crazy. Charlie, like many of Scorsese’s men has a Madonna/Whore complex. He resents Theresa’s independence. He chastises her for her vulgar language, which he and his cronies use all the time. He gladly has sex with her but fears a lasting relationship and his Uncle’s wrath. Theresa is in love with Charlie and she wants out of the neighborhood. She wants Charlie to commit to her and wants them to move uptown away from the neighborhood and into the outside world. Charlie cannot commit and he certainly will not leave the neighborhood. For men like Charlie, the neighborhood is everything.  

    Charlie’s relationship with Johnny Boy will lead to its inevitable violent ending. Johnny Boy’s disrespect to the local loan sharks like Michael (Richard Romanus) cannot be peacefully negotiated forever. While Charlie “protects” Johnny Boy, he will not go the distance, that is talk to his Uncle, who thinks Johnny Boy is a flake and dangerous, and is the only one who can ease the volatile situation with the loan sharks.

    Scorsese shows us a world where violence can erupt at any moment as it does in the now well-known “Mook” scene. Here we see Charlie and his boys go to a local pool hall to make a collection. The owner is happy to pay until one of the guys calls another a “mook.” While no one is sure, what’s a “mook” they are sure it’s an insult and soon a brawl breaks out between the two groups as The Marvelettes “Please Mr. Postman” blast away on the soundtrack. Scorsese’s mobile camera is in the middle of the mix as we watch these guys battle each other, Johnny Boy jumping on a pool table swinging a broken cue stick and kicking wildly. The police break it up but are paid off not to press any charges. As the cops leave, the two sides agree to have a drink together; however before you know it, another fight breaks out.    

    Scorsese poured himself into this film; Charlie is Marty’s on screen surrogate. There are indicators throughout the film most obviously with the lead character’s name. Charlie was Scorsese’s father’s name and Cappa was his mother’s maiden name. Like Scorsese, Charlie likes movies, twice we see him in a movie theater. Also, Charlie’s struggle with religion versus his outside life reflects the young Scorsese’s own internal battle.

    Influenced by the cinema verite documentary movement of the 1960’s, the French New Wave as well as by film noir of the 1940’s (Charlie’s Uncle watches Lang’s “The Big Heat” on TV) film critics greeted the film with warm open arms. Pauline Kael in The New Yorker called “Mean Streets”, “a true original of our period, a triumph of personal filmmaking.” Vincent Canby wrote in The New York Times,   “No matter how bleak the milieu, no matter how heartbreaking the narrative, some films are so thoroughly, beautifully realized they have a kind of tonic effect that has no relation to the subject matter. Such a film is Mean Streets…” “Mean Streets” premiered at the New York Film Festival in 1973 and opened two weeks later exclusively at the Cinema 1 theater on the upper East Side of Manhattan. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, the film did not do well at the box office, it may have been too New York, too isolated to the tribal rituals of Italian-Americans or too blue collar. Finally, the film is not so much a gangster film as a coming of age story.

    Amazingly, most of this New York film was shot in Los Angeles for budgetary reasons. Scorsese only shot about six days of exteriors in New York, including the annual San Gennaro festival in Little Italy. In addition, the tenement building shots were filmed in New York because of their authenticity and atmosphere. In those six days of filming Scorsese crammed in a lot of Little Italy including the old St. Patrick’s Cathedral and even a drive by shot of the Waverly Theater (now the IFC) in Greenwich Village.

    Unlike “The Godfather”, which deals with the upper echelons of the mob world and mythologizes the gangster lifestyle “Mean Streets” give you a view of small time marginal thugs living in Little Italy. As influenced as Scorsese was by those who came before, “Mean Streets” would go on to influence filmmakers of the next generation.

    From the opening pounding beat of Ronnie Spector’s voice singing “Be My Baby” to the final bloody ending “Mean Streets” is one of the great rides in cinema. I love it.

Dillinger (1973) John Milius

    If I choose to like John Milius’ 1973 AIP “Dillinger” more than Michael Mann’s current version of the outlaw’s life in “Public Enemies,” it is certainly not because Mann’s pixel filled opus lacks style. The film struck me as maybe having too much style. Johnny Depp’s Dillinger is way too cool for the times. Since cool as an aesthetic, as an attitude, is something that only became part of popular culture in the 1950’s (like James Dean in Rebel without a Cause), Depp’s brash Dillinger acts more like a modern day anti-hero than a mid-westerner who grew up on a farm in the 1930’s. Depp looks good in the 30’s style clothes; his aura just comes across as too modern. Warren Oates has no such façade, his Dillinger is not the natty dresser we see in Mann’s film and presents a more believable character. 

    Then there is Christian Bale’s Melvin Purvis, who is stoic but rather dull due to an underwritten character. He does not really do much. This unlike Ben Johnson’s version, who is as determined as Bale’s younger and more age appropriate Purvis in “Public Enemies”, depicts a fiercer grunting bear like, cold hearted, meaner and certainly more violent Purvis. Milius, who wrote the script, also gives Purvis some nice characteristic touches like every time he kills one of the FBI’s most wanted, he lights up a cigar, and he lit up quite a few during the film’s running time. Warren Oates’s John Dillinger is tough, handsome, in a rough sort of way, certainly no pretty boy like Johnny Depp, though it is Oates’ John D. who compares himself to movie star Douglas Fairbanks (actually it is Michelle Phillips’, Billie Frechette who compares him to Fairbanks the first time). In fact, Oates bares an uncanny close resemblance to the real John Dillinger. Both films parallel the similar duel stories of Dillinger and Purvis until they merge one faithful violent night outside the Biograph Theater.   

    Mann’s film is certainly better looking than Milius’ ”B” film, from the scenery to the actors there is nothing that is not “pretty.” If comparing the two, this makes Milius work look gritty. Mann’s constant stylization makes it seem every action in “Public Enemies” is a monumental moment even if the famed outlaw is only jumping over a fence.

    Both films are plagued with inaccuracies, then again, you should not be watching a movie for a history lesson. History is sometimes not as neat as fiction. For example, Baby Face Nelson dies in both versions before Dillinger, while in real life, Dillinger died in July of 1934 while Nelson in November. Gang member, Homer Van Meter, also shown dying before Dillinger actually died a month later.

    Characterizations change in each film, reflecting the filmmaker’s point of view. While in both versions, John Dillinger is portrayed as a gentleman, well actually, he is more of a gentleman in Mann’s version than in Milius’, where he beats up Billie Frechette pretty badly upon their first meeting. Depp’s Dillinger seems to have more respect for his woman. Frechette in the 2009 film is portrayed as a more tragic figure, and their affair is a central part of the film, where as in the Milius’ version she is pretty much regulated to the background. In Milius’ version of the Little Bohemia lodge shootout, the killing of FBI agents is way over the top with more G-Men dying than we had battlefield deaths in World War 2. John Milius’ love of guns is well known and he was never shy about using them.

    Both films are loose with chronology and facts however; both were miles ahead of the 1945 film, “Dillinger” with Lawrence Tierney as Big John. Other than the name, there is not much that is true. Of course, truth is not a prerequisite for a good story. 

   John Dillinger, like Bonnie and Clyde and Pretty Boyd Floyd were rural outlaws in the tradition of Billy the Kid or Jesse James more than gangsters like say, Al Capone. They flourished during the great depression when banks were seen by many common folk as the enemy foreclosing on good honest working people. They also thrived because they out powered the law. Dillinger, as well as Bonnie and Clyde, favored the powerful Browning automatic rifles, which they generally stole from National Guard Armories. A trait, never explored in either film is how Dillinger became  a master criminal unlike Bonnie and Clyde who John D. looked down on as amateurs and wanted nothing to do with them. In both films, Dillinger is very conscience of his public image.

    Milius does not waste anytime in his action packed film; even before the opening credits, which unfold to the tune of “We’re in the Money”, the gang robs a bank. From the get go, the film moves at a break neck speed with rarely a moment to catch ones breath. “Dillinger” was John Milius’ first film as a director. He had built a reputation as one of the 1970’s young and upcoming screenwriters with “Jeremiah Johnson” and “The Life and Times of Judger Roy Bean” to his credit. He also worked, uncredited, on “Dirty Harry.” At the time of its release, “Dillinger” seemed redundant of better films like “Bonnie and Clyde” (the depression, the use of We’re in the Money and even a scene where the “heroes” goes home one more time to see family before they die). Warren Oates is the perfect John Dillinger, the physical resemblance, as I previously mentioned is remarkable.  Ben Johnson vividly portrays Melvin Purvis; many will remember Oates and Johnson were on better terms as the Gorch brothers in Peckinpah’s “The Wild Bunch.” Cloris Leachman is Anna Sage, the lady in red and a crazed pre-star Richard Dreyfuss is maniacal as Baby Face Nelson. The Mamas and Papa Michelle Phillips made her screen debut as Billie Frechette. Harry Dean Stanton is Homer Van Meter who dies in a blaze of bullets courtesy of friendly local town folks, after a college student whose car he highjacked at gunpoint drives off leaving him in the middle of town. His final words: “Thing aren’t workin’ out for me today.” Overall, Milius accomplished just as much if not more with this low-budget rural outlaw film than Mann did with his millions of dollars in budget.

The Panic in Needle Park (1971) Jerry Schatzberg

   “The Panic in Needle Park” is raw unnerved New York filmmaking from the 1970’s. Its locations reek with the underbelly of city life, the subways, Whalen’s drugstore and the infamous Sherman Park aka Needle Park. Al Pacino in his first leading role is on fire, gum chewing, chain-smoking and wired. This is Pacino, pre-Godfather, unadulterated, years before too many mannerisms would turn to clichéd performances.  

 

    The film is directed by Jerry Schatzberg, his first, a well known photographer, who spent his hours taking portraits of Bob Dylan, ( including the cover of Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde album), Faye Dunaway, The Rolling Stones and Andy Warhol. Schatzberg would go on to directed other downbeat works like rarely seen “Puzzle of a Downfall Child” and “Scarecrow.”

 

This is a sad love story of two drug-addicted people with no escape. Schatzberg never had a hit film, maybe because he was too honest in his best work. His sophistication and honesty shows by not making either of the two characters die at the end of the film such as would happen in most films today. They live, still going nowhere.

 Attached HERE is a review I wrote for Halo-17 a while back.

The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973) Peter Yates

    Simply said, Peter Yate’s 1973 film, “The Friends of Eddie Coyle” is a crime thriller. The problem with stating it so simply is today’s action fans will be disappointed. There are no blow-ups, no action car chases, and no CGI graphics. What “Eddie Coyle” remains, is an unsentimental, uncompromising film about the final days of a somewhat tragic protagonist.

    Eddie is a small time gunrunner with no ambition to be any more than what he is. He is fifty-one years old and facing a two to five years jail sentence for driving a truck loaded with smuggled stolen whiskey. Earlier in his career, Eddie made one mistake, when he purchased stolen guns that some of his associates used in a robbery. The guns were traced by the law costing a couple of Eddie’s “friends” twenty-five years in the slammer. For this mistake, one of Eddie’s hands was smashed in a draw, cracking his knuckles, acquiring him the nickname Eddie Fingers.  “It was nothing personal,” he tells bartender/police informant/contract killer, Dillon (Peter Boyle). Eddie understood why it had to be done. It was business. 

    The film is split into two interweaving narratives, one of which is a straight-laced bank heist movie demonstrating the intricate details of the robberies, something director Peter Yates has perfected over the course of his career. Having previously directed ”Bullitt”, “Robbery” and “The Hot Rock” you might take it for granted that Yates is giving us more of the same. He’s not. The second narrative is Eddie’s story,  a man getting too old for the business he’s in, not wanting to face another term in jail and slowly turning into a stool pigeon.

    Robert Mitchum as the doomed Eddie gives one of his most beautiful understated performances. It is a work is equal to anything else in his portfolio. Just watch him toward the end of the film sitting in the nosebleed seats watching the Boston Bruins play. It is a simple scene, yet so perfectly executed scene. He’s semi drunk from too many beers and he suddenly yells out to no one in particular “Number 4, Bobby Orr! The greatest hockey player ever.” It’s a perfect Boston moment at the now gone Boston Garden. Soon after the game, Eddie’s “friends” will take him for a final ride. Though Mitchum is the star, his part is just one of many excellent integrated roles. Surprisingly he sometimes remains off camera for long periods of time, still it is his quiet unassuming performance that grabs you and holds you to the screen.   

    The film is based on an excellent novel, and former bestseller, by George V. Higgins. The screenplay is by Paul Monash who wisely stuck close to Higgins dialogue and storyline. Higgins never acknowledge it but the story is similar to real life Boston criminal Billy O’Brien, an associate of Boston gangster James “Whitey” Bulger. Like the fictional Coyle, it was feared by his associates that Billy O’Brien was talking to the cops. Billy was silenced, and again like Eddie his murder was never solved. Unusual for an action film “Eddie Coyle” is dialogue driven, there are few violent scenes and when they do happen Yates is very low key, making the film’s ending that much more unsettling.  Tarantino fans should note that Eddie’s gun dealer is named Jackie Brown (Steven Keats), a name borrowed by Mr. Tarantino when he turned Elmore Leonard’s novel “Rum Punch” into his classic crime film.

    Along with Mitchum, the film is loaded with nice subtle performances by some excellent character actors of the 1970’s, from Peter Boyle, to Richard Jordan, Joe Santos, Steven Keats and Alex Rocco. Brit Peter Yates displays a nice affinity for a Boston filled with cold, gray weather. Character’s whose breath is clearly visible in the wintry air. Hangouts of dingy bars and unsavory coffee shops, automobiles that have seen better days. It is all very unglamorous. Still, Boston has rarely been served better on screen than in this low-key crime drama. 

    An interesting story from Kent Jones article included in the Criterion Edition of the DVD is about Alex Rocco who was born  in Boston, Mass. Rocco, who originally went by the name Alexander Petricone, aka Bobo, was very familiar with Bugler and his gang. He eventually left the North East for L.A. changing his name and started a career in acting. The New England mobsters never knew what happened to Bobo until 1972 when they saw him on screen as Moe Green in “The Godfather”

Next Stop, Greenwich Village (1976) Paul Mazursky

    In the 1950’s, New York was the center of the art world. The Broadway Theater was filled with the works of great playwright like Tennessee Williams, William Inge, and Robert Anderson with plays like “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, “Sweet Bird of Youth”, “Picnic” and “Tea and Sympathy.” The musical theater was electric with shows like “Gypsy”, “West Side Story” “Guys and Dolls”, “Bye Bye Birdie” and all were original productions, new shows. Not one was a revival. The theater was just the tip of the iceberg, live television, dramas produced by such up and coming writers as Paddy Chayefsky and Rod Sterling were broadcast live featuring unknown actors like James Dean, Eva Marie Saint, Rod Steiger, Ben Gazarra and Paul Newman, directed by such newbie’s as John Frankenheimer, and Sidney Lumet. Music was also in the air, Jazz clubs one after another on 52^nd Street; Folk Music filled the streets of Greenwich Village, along young comedic acts like Woody Allen, Mort Sal and Lenny Bruce, and artists like Jackson Pollack and a young man by the name of Warhol were breaking new ground.

    It must have been an exciting time to be young, creative, free and living in New York, but not just New York but one specific area in lower Manhattan know as Greenwich Village. Art, coffee houses, poetry readings, politics, rent parties and sexual freedom, The Village was a place to fit in when you did not fit in anywhere else. In his 1976 film, “Next Stop, Greenwich Village, Paul Mazursky, who lived the life, gives us one of the best screen portraits of what Village life was like in those now bygone days. Mazursky, was a young actor and writer performing in improvisational theater before he moved on to the left coast and an acting career that included parts in Stanley Kubrick’s first film “Fear and Desire” along with “The Blackboard Jungle” and “Crime in the Streets.”     

    His story centers on young Larry Lapinksy (Lenny Baker) a Brooklyn College graduate who has always wanted to be an actor. He moves out of his parents’ apartment, much to the despair of his over protective mother Fay (Shelley Winters) and complacent father (Mike Kellen), in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn to Greenwich Village. Here he gets a job in a deli working for Lou Jacobi and attends acting classes where he meets other young hopefuls all vying for a piece of the artistic pie. Among Larry’s inner circle are his girl friend free spirited Sarah (Ellen Greene), intelligent, witty and incapable of committing to a relationship. When Lenny asked if she loves him, she could only respond by saying, she wears a diaphragm. She is also attracted to Robert (Christopher Walken), a self-absorbed playwright/Poet who draws women like flies yet remains emotionally cold. Other village eccentrics include Lois Smith as Anita, a depressed suicidal type, Antonia Fargas as Bernstein, a gay black man and a young Jeff Goldblum as Clyde Baxter already phony leading man type looking for his break.

     Lenny may have left home but his over emotionally attached mother Fay (Shelley Winters) will not leave him. Inappropriately appearing at his apartment, she barges in during a rent party charging in like a hippo in a Yardro factory embarrassing Lenny to no end. On another occasion, she unexpectedly appears when he is attempting to make love to Sarah and blindly going into a tirade insisting that they now have to get married. Lenny gets a bit part in a Hollywood movie and is ready to fly off to Hollywood. Saying goodbye to his parents, his mother gives him a bagful of apple strudels to eat on the plane. She is a Jewish mother to be reckoned with; all love and terror wrapped up in a loud uncontrollable big heart spitting out guilt to for the world to share. Lenny Baker’s performance holds the film together and it is a shame his career was cut short when he was struck with cancer three years later and died prematurely in 1982. He was 37 years old. Shelley Winters is ideal as a lovable bear of a woman who is fearful of letting go of her baby. Ellen Greene tantalizing as Sarah and Christopher Walken is prefect as the unemotional Robert.

    Mazursky has written a gentle love letter to his past, a fond look back at his early days. You get the feeling that for him there is a nostalgic fondness to days gone when we see Larry’s imitations of Brando and his dreams of an Oscar acceptance speech as he waits at the subway station. Lenny is Mazursky as a young man.  It is a lovely film with no bitterness, resentment or regrets.

    “Next Stop, Greenwich Village”, opened to generally favorable reviews in 1976, Pauline Kael liked it, and Vincent Canby did not. The film was nominated for the Golden Palm Award at the Cannes Film Festival and Mazursky received a nomination for Best Comedy Written Directly for the Screen from the Writers Guild. This is a film that seems to have gotten lost in the seventies, an intelligent, witty and engaging work of a period in time that will never be seen again.

The Wanderers (1979) Philip Kaufman

    Richard Price’s first novel “The Wanderers” was published in 1974, when he was twenty-four years old. Price knew the territory having grown up in the housing projects of The Bronx. It was a period just before the Assassination of JFK, before Vietnam was on the front page of every newspaper and before the Beatles. The episodic novel focuses on an Italian-American gang, “The Wanderers” led by Richie Gennaro (Ken Wahl). Price’s Bronx is overflowing with gangs, among them the Del Rays, the Fordham Baldies, the Wongs and the stunted Irish bat wielding wild men, the Ducky Boys. Phillip Kaufman’s 1979 film version, while diverting from it source novel in many respects, similarly focus’ on a series of descriptive scenes centering on Gennaro and his fellow Wanderers. Though they wear matching satin jackets, they are not so much a gang as they are a union of close friends hanging out on street corners, chasing girls and protecting themselves from the more dangerous gangs of the Bronx neighborhood they live in. This inner city coming of age film sparkles intermittently while managing to unfortunately derail itself at times with arty self-consciousness.  

    Statistically the sixties began in 1960 however, the mood, the essence, the spirit of the sixties began in 1963; the year it all began to change. At this point in time, the radio was still filled with American Rock and Roll; artists like Dion, The Contours, The Four Seasons, The Shirelles and The Isley Brothers ruled the Billboard charts. Guys hanging out on street corners singing doo-wop, watching the girls walk by, sizing them up, planning how to cop a feel by “accidentally” bumping into them.

    The film’s focus is on four of The Wanderers, Richie, Joey (John Friedrich), Perry (Tony Ganios) and Buddy (Jim Youngs).  Though the screenplay, written by Philip and Rose Kaufman, is as episodic at Price’s novel, the film never goes much beyond the boys’ current life and does not reveal any dreams or aspirations they may have beyond their present existence. In his novel, Price ventures to suggest what the future could offer, what they as individuals, want out of life beyond hanging out on the Grand Concourse and Fordham Road. True, Joey and Perry drive off to San Francisco at the end however; they do not seem to have any plans other than to get out of their current individual situations. The boys’ families are dysfunctional, Joey, an artistic type, is brutalized by his over macho father, Emilio (William Andrews), and Perry (Tony Ganios), a new kid on the block, just moved from New Jersey, has an alcoholic mother who sleeps around. As for Richie, he seems destined to marry his recently knock-up girlfriend Despie (Toni Kalem) and live a life of eating pasta and wearing Hawaiian shirts, similar to his Mafia like future father-in-law.

    The film is successful in spots, particularly the opening scenes where Kaufman’s camera gloriously flows over The Bronx from above, fluidly moving down in front Alexander’s Department store to focus on the pug faces of the Fordham Baldies, all to the beat of The Four Seasons “Walk Like a Man.”  Another finely realized scene is the strip poker party Richie orchestrates with Joey. The girls, Despie and a new girl Nina (Karen Allen), from the right side of the tracks, are set up to lose both the game and their clothes. There is a mischievous comic interplay between the four characters, the girls begin to catch on that the game is rigged, that is executed more naturally than anything else in the movie.

    Unfortunately, the film goes off course in other scenes, particularly when Kaufman films a bizarre atmospheric episode where Richie and his friends spot Nina walking down the street and follow her in Perry’s car. They end up in an eerie fog filled, oddly lit world controlled by the bat swinging Ducky Boys. It is such a strange out of context scene that I almost expected one of the Wanderers to say, “I don’t think we’re in The Bronx anymore, Toto” as they drive deeper into this strange Oz like landscape gone wrong. Outnumbered, the four are beaten up, though they eventually manage to escape the villainous Ducky Boys.     

    New York City, like many big cities, was inundated with youth gangs in the 1950’s and early 1960’s.  Price, in his novel, and Kaufman likewise in the film, used the names of real gangs from those bygone days. The Fordham Baldies (the real gang did not shave their heads), The Ducky Boys, and The Wanderers were all real and violent gangs. Unlike “The Warriors”, released earlier the same year, “The Wanderers” is not so much about gangs as it is about coming of age, in a more innocent time that was on the verge of extinction. We see the dawn of a new age (of Aquarius?) in various scenes. The Vietnam War, though never mentioned, is symbolized by the foreboding Marine recruiter who suckers some of the Baldies into signing up. The assassination of John F. Kennedy is viewed by Richie as he passes by a department store window with a TV broadcasting the news on the President’s death. During his bachelor party in Little Italy, Richie spots Nina and follows her a few blocks to Folk City where a young Bob Dylan is performing “The Times They Are A- Changin.’” Nina enters the club meeting some friends while, Richie uncertain remains outside. He turns and leaves returning to his party and the familiar world he knows. These scenes may be a bit obvious and even heavy-handed but they do convey an emotion that our lives will no longer be as innocent and carefree as they once were.

      Richard Price, as I am sure many know, is one of our grittiest and best novelist and screenwriters. His novels include “The Ladies Man”, “Bloodbrothers”, “Clockers”, “Freedomland”, and most recently “Lush Life.”  His screenplays include “Sea of Love”, “Clockers”, “Shaft”, “Mad Dog and Glory”, “Night and the City” and “The Color of Money.” Price also wrote the music video “Bad” for Michael Jackson, which was directed by Martin Scorsese.

    The cast was filled, at the time, with talented unknowns. This was Ken Wahl’s first film; he would later star as Vinnie in Stephen Cannell’s TV series “Wiseguy.”  Karen Allen, of course, would hit it big in “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” Toni Kalem would later appear in “The Sopranos” as Angie Bonpensiero, Big Pussy’s wife. I especially found Wahl’s characterization of Richie and Toni Kalem’s, Despie the real highlights along with EricVan Lidth De Jeude who played Terror, the gigantic intimidating 350 pound, 6’6” imposing leader of the Baldies. Terror’s girlfriend was played by 4’ 10” Linda Manz. In filming the couple, polar opposites in size, Kaufman’s camera presents an idiosyncratic Fellini like images of the two.

       The soundtrack is filled with early sixties hits, highlighted by two of Dion’s greatest, “The Wanderer” and “Runaround Sue.” Kaufman’s uses the soundtrack not just as an excuse to sell albums; his choices compliment the visuals as effectively as Scorsese did in “Mean Streets” a few years earlier.  The use of “Walk Like a Man” at the beginning of the film where we first are introduced to the Fordham Baldies is a highlight. The pounding beat Dion’s “The Wanderer” is the Italian-American gang’s national anthem.      

    “The Wanderers” was released about six months after “The Warriors” and was unfairly compared to Walter Hill’s gang infested adventure with a New York City over ridden with gangs. What “The Wanderers” does is capture a moment in time, not always very successfully, but in spirit, a time when the innocence of a nation was about to end and we and The Wanderers were about to grow up.

Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974) Joseph Sargent

Written by John Godey, “The Taking of Pelham One Two Three” was a massive best selling novel in 1973. In 1974, United Artists released a thrilling movie with a screenplay by Peter Stone, directed by Joseph Sargent and starring Walter Matthau, Robert Shaw and Martin Balsam.

    On what seems a typical day in New York City, the Lexington Avenue line is making its way toward downtown Manhattan when three men board the subway train at different stations. At the 28^th street station, a fourth man approaches the motorman, points a gun through the window ordering him to unlock the door to his cab and let the man standing  outside his door enter. Meanwhile, one of the other men is now pointing a gun at the conductor ordering him to hold the doors open until the man talking to the motorman gets on board. One all are aboard, they allow the motorman to move the train out of the station stopping it between stations. Meanwhile, Lt. Zack Garber of the New York Transit Authority police is doing a tour of the command center, showing four executives from the Japanese Transit Authority the massive layout of the subway system. His day will soon go from mundane to way out of the ordinary.

    The Pelham One Two Three is being hijacked and the four hijackers are demanding one million dollars in cash. Sounds crazy! How do you hijack a subway train? The plan is meticulous and almost works until it all starts to unravel with the help of a smart transit cop.

    This is one of the most economical action oriented films ever made. No time is wasted on introducing the characters. Right from the very opening, we are integrated into the heist. The characters develop as the story progresses. There are no sub-stories or romantic interludes. There are no unnecessary explosions or violent close-ups’ of people being shot and they do not resort to special effects as so many films do today. Director Sargent leans on story, acting and simply, good solid filmmaking, he shoots the story straight.

    “This is one of the great New York films. It captures the feel, the grime, the dress, the speech, the attitude of 1970’s New York. The Mayor, portrayed by Lee Wallace is an ineffective cowardly politician who comes across as a combination of former Mayors Abe Beam and John Lindsay though author Godey never stated whom the character was based on. In 1974, the city was in bad shape and John Lindsay who was in the final months of his administration when the film was made insisted that the filmmakers use graffiti free train cars  so the image of New York would not look as bad as it really was.  

    The film is rich in excellent cast members from Walter Matthau whose droll sense of humor is perfect for the role of Zack Garber. The film was the third in a series of action films Matthau made during this period. Both “Charley Varrick” and “The Laughing Policeman” came out the pervious year. Robert Shaw is Mr. Blue a former British mercenary, and the cold unemotional leader of the hijackers. Shaw had just appeared in the Academy Award winning film “The Sting”, and in 1975 would soon appear in “Jaws.”  Mr. Blue’s fellow hijackers include Martin Balsam as Mr. Green, a former disgruntled subway employee, and crucial member with the inside knowledge to operate the train. Mr. Grey (Hector Elizondo) is the trigger-happy gunman who “can’t wait to get on the scoreboard.” and Earl Hindman as Mr. Brown. In addition to the hijackers, Matthau’s transit cop has to deal with a hot headed dispatcher (Dick O’Neill)  whose priority is to keep the rest of the subway system moving and be damned if anyone gets killed. The cast also includes Jerry Stiller, James Broderick, Tony Roberts and Doris Roberts as the Mayor’s wife.

    Walter Matthau had read the script, liked it and told United Artists he wanted to do it. The role of Lt. Garber was originally written with a thirty-two year old African-American in mind. However, after Matthau was brought in, the script was changed to accommodate the star.

    The cinematography of Owen Roizman captures the gritty look of the subway system, station after station in brilliant detail, as does Jerry Greenberg’s sharp editing which keeps the pace of the film moving at a quick speed. Greenberg’s other works include, “The French Connection”, “Apocalypse Now”, “Dressed to Kill” and “Scarface.”  Finally and not least is David Shire’s exciting 12 tone funk/jazz style score which jump kicks the film right from the beginning. Shire was on a roll at this period producing some of his best work in films like “Farewell, My Lovely”, “The Conversation” and “All the President’s Men.”

    The 2009 remake with Denzel Washington (restoring the role of Lt. Garber to an African-American) and John Travolta as the lead hijacker has a lot to live up to. What gives me hope is that the ’09 screenplay is by Brian Hegeland whose previous work includes “Mystic River” and “LA Confidential.” What worries me is that Tony Scott whose overall work has been slick and uneven directs the film.

    And of course, I would be remiss it I did not mention how Quentin Tarantino was “inspired” by this film paying “tribute” in his use of naming his criminal characters, in “Reservoir Dogs”, after colors. Before watching the new version, check out the original. You will not be sorry.

Sources:  Matthau: A Life – Rob Edelman

Let It Be (1970) Michael Lindsay-Hogg

    “Let It Be” is a glorious mess, with little continuity, poor editing, a lack of direction and at times poor sound quality. You also get to see the most influential group in Rock and Roll history argue, mock each other, play poorly at times, look bored (Ringo) and watch a curious shadowy Yoko Ono cling to John Lennon throughout.  Despite all this, there are ample things to enjoy, primarily the opportunity to watch this celebrated band rehearse and create their work in the studio and a now legendary rooftop concert.

    Even with all the in fighting and hard feelings that were rising to the surface, they could still have fun and play well, as they do, from the top of the Apple Building, which turned out to be the final time John, Paul, George and Ringo ever performed together. The film is not for the casual fan who will probably find it somewhat boring at times and skip over directly to the concert. On the other hand, serious Beatles and Rock and Roll fans will find the film a fascinating look at the most celebrated band ever in the final stages of their career. As previously pointed out, the film is technically bad, director Michael Lindsay-Hogg should never be allowed behind a camera again. There were hours and hours of film shot and it seems no one knew how to put all this footage together. Except for an occasionally nice cut here and there, the film looks like it was chopped with a cleaver by a character from the Sopranos. While the sound of the music is crisp and loud, much of the dialogue between the fab four is hard to hear and at times unclear, forcing you to raise the volume on your TV. This is especially noticeable during the now well known “tutoring” Paul gave to George on how to play the guitar in which George, fed up finally said, and I am paraphrasing here a bit,   “I’ll play anyway you want me too or I don’t have to play at all.” George apparently walked out and quite the group at this point (this is not noted in the film) and there was talk of replacing him with Eric Clapton. George did return and Billy Preston was brought into the sessions to help ease the tension. Poor George also became the brunt of some mocking by John, when during a rehearsal of George’s song “I Me Mine”, John began to dance a waltz with Yoko. John, off camera, sarcastically had told George as he listened to the slower portion of the song “We’re a Rock and Roll band!”   

    It’s not all bad; there is plenty in the film to savor. Ringo and George rehearsing “Octopus’ Garden” with Ringo on piano and eventually John joining in on drums. We see the group singing tidbits of songs never completed like “Suzy Parker.” While warming up the band would jump into bits and pieces of oldies like “Rip it Up”, “Shake Rattle and Roll”, “Kansas City” and “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” segueing from one to the other. You get a look at their creative process as you watch Paul and John work out specific cords Paul wanted for his song, “I Got a Feeling.”  There is as he Paul reminisces to someone off camera about the early days, how he and John would write songs in his family’s living room, mostly pretty bad stuff, but some that were eventually used liked “Love Me Do.” He talked how they both hated the words to “One After 909” and in one of the more inspired edited moments, we quickly cut to the band in the studio doing a blazing version of the song, one much better than the official released version on the “Let It Be” album.

    The original concept was to do a TV special with a concert performance at the end. The TV idea was scraped and a feature film was now planned, which would fulfill their three-picture deal with United Artists. Still, they discussed doing a live performance somewhere, Paul and John were for it, George, never wanted to perform live again. Paul liked the idea of performing in a small venue; John suggested somewhere more exotic, Africa. They were unable to come up with an idea all could agree on. According to the book “The Beatles: An Oral History” by David Prichard and Alan Lysasht,  engineer/producer Glyn Johns came up with the idea of doing a concert on the roof of the Apple Building. A competing version of the story comes from Tony Branwell in his book “Magical Mystery Tours: My Life with The Beatles” where he states it was Paul who came up with the idea for the concert on the roof. Whatever the truth may be, all four members of the group liked the off beat idea of playing to all of the West End of London.

    However disjointed the rest of the film may be the final twenty minutes is pure magic. The concert actually lasted about forty five minutes before the police pulled the proverbial plug. They played only seven songs, short versions of “God Save the Queen” and “She’s So Heavy” were edited out along with multiple versions of “Don’t Let Me Down”, “I’ve Got a Feeling” and “Get Back.”  They also performed “One After 909” and “Dig a Pony.” Intercut with the performances, the filmmakers showed the bewildered crowds down below as the music began to play.

It was a chilly and windy day in London, hair is blowing and jackets are worn. The group begins to play.  

 

#1 – Get Back – The group kicks off with a rocking version of “Get Back.” Down on the street we see passerby’s looking up bewildered, wondering what is going on? Can it be The Beatles are performing live up on the roof?

 

#2 – Don’t Let Me Down – As John wails out this tune, young men are now climbing up to the rooftops of adjacent buildings to get a better view. The crowd on the street is beginning to grow.

 #3 – I’ve Got a Feeling – By the end of this song the crowds have increased. The police make their first appearance trying to control the crowds and keep auto traffic moving. Not everyone on the street is happy with this free concert. One middle-aged woman complained that, “it made no sense.” A businessman, stated, “the music was alright in its place….it’s a bit of an imposition to interrupt the business area in this way.” On the other side of the generation gap, one young lady thought it was “fantastic” and another simply said, “it was great.” 

 

#4 – One After 909 – With this song one has to wonder how prophetic the boys were being here playing one of the earliest songs they ever wrote and now it was one of the last they would ever perform together.

 #5 – Dig A Pony – The police presence was gathering, stern faces looking very concerned moving among the crowd. They were getting ready to make their move. Two police officers are seen knocking on the front door of Apple and are let in. They soon make their way upstairs.

 

#6 – Get Back – The police are on the rooftop talking to a Beatles associate. John and George turn and notice the two officers however continue playing. As the song comes toward it close, Paul changes the words, singing, “Get Back Loretta, you’ve been playing on the roof again, and that’s no good. Momma doesn’t like it and she’s gonna get you arrested.”

 As the band puts their instruments down, John who always had the witty last word said, “On behalf of the group and ourselves, I hope we passed the audition.” 

 With that, The Beatles as a group never performed again.

      “Let It Be” won an Academy Award for Best Original Song Score and a Grammy for Best Original Score for a Motion Picture.  Watching the concert part of the movie puts to rest any thoughts anyone may have that The Beatles could no longer perform well as a live four piece Rock and Roll band. The film remains criminally unreleased on DVD. Legally, only VHS and laser disc copies of the film are available and both are scarce. Bootleg copies abound, some claiming to be official releases, and the internet is filled with clips from the film. Still why isn’t this film and the multitude of outtakes available? What a great 2-disc package this would be. In 2007, the film was being remastered with plans for an eventual release on DVD, however for reasons unknown the process was stopped and the film remains a rare treasure.

 

Attached here is a interview with director Michael Lindsay-Hogg from 2003 on releasing a DVD of “Let It Be.”