Review – Mean Streets

November 6, 2010

Mean Streets – U.S., 1973

I don’t get films like Mean Streets. It’s possible I never will. When I say films like Mean Streets, I’m referring to the criminal-as-lead-character genre as a whole – a cinematic variation through which viewers often get a peak into the personal lives of some pretty awful characters. Early films in this genre came with a disclaimer stating that the movie studios that produced them were in no way trying to glorify either the characters or the lifestyle depicted in the films, and therefore, most of them ended with the main character lying face down somewhere, having taken his last breath under extremely harsh conditions. Modern films in this genre are much more challenging – often times the criminal lives, and he doesn’t always spend his waning years behind bars. I remember one time standing on a Muni bus in San Francisco listening to a group of young adults discussing how much they liked Tony Soprano and how Carmella “wasn’t good enough for him.” Was it that what the character did for a living didn’t bother them or that they could somehow separate the fictional, “likable” criminals they saw on TV and in movies from those that exist in real life? I’ll never know, but what I do know is that I have rarely been able to get into films in which criminals are the central character – not even when those characters crack joke after joke, as they do in the 2003 remake of The Italian Job. In fact, one of the main reasons that Steven Soderbergh’s remake of Ocean’s 11 works is that the victim of the crime is a rather despicable person. If he’s likable, audiences would probably root against Danny Ocean’s jovial group.

Having said this up front, it should come to no surprise then that Martin Scorsese’s sophomore film, Mean Streets, presented me with a bit of a challenge, so much so that after quickly jotting down the paragraph above, I decided to watch the film again. Upon the first viewing, the film had left me cold and a bit underwhelmed – hence, the sentiments expressed above. This impression changed slightly upon second viewing, as many of the film’s themes and characters came into sharper focus. Mean Streets is essentially a Shakespearean tragedy, with Harvey Keitel playing a role similar to Hamlet. In the film, Keitel plays Charlie, a young man trying to work his way up the ranks of his uncle’s underground enterprise. It’s not a profession that suits him, for he’s simply too naïve to make it work. Someone in his line of work should be decisive and inspire a certain degree of fear. This just isn’t Charlie, and in a sense, he knows it.

Charlie’s inner circle of friends – if you can call them that – includes the owner of a bar (Tony), a loan shark (Michael), and an unsuccessful gambler named Johnny Boy (the great Robert De Niro). Each of them is in some way trying to prove they can make it. Charlie wants to be a leader and a mediator, the one people turn to to solve problems. The problem is not that people don’t turn to him, but rather that many problems remain unresolved. Tony (David Proval) yearns to be a successful business owner. His often half empty bar is testament to the fact that he’s not completely there yet. Michael (Richard Romanus) wants to be the tough-as-nails money lender we see so often in gangster movies, the one who has no qualms roughing someone up or permanently disfiguring them, yet the role does not come easy to him. In one scene, as he’s not-so-subtly asking someone to deliver Johnny Boy a message, he accidentally causes her to drop her groceries. With a slightly apologetic look on his face, he proceeds to help her pick them up before wondering aloud what he’s doing. I guess it’s hard to be mean.

Johnny is the odd man out, for he’s a man with no real future, a small-time gambler who owes practically every one he sees money. In one scene, he and Charlie are having a bit of fun when Johnny suddenly ducks behind a car. “Joe Black. I owe him money.” Johnny Boy also owes both Tony and Michael money, and he doesn’t seem a bit interested in paying either of them back, perhaps because he thinks Charlie has his back. At the same time, Charlie is secretly involved with Johnny Boy’s cousin, Teresa (Amy Robinson), a fact that wouldn’t sit well with Charlie’s uncle Giovanni (Cesare Danova) if he ever found out about it. Giovanni considers Teresa “sick in the head” despite the fact that all she has is epilepsy. “Honorable men hang out with honorable men,” Giovanni explains.

Much of the conflict in Mean Streets is internal. Charlie struggles with the notion of forgiveness and salvation and seems torn between the laws of the church and the laws of the streets. In the opening moments of the film, he ruminates over the effectiveness of confession and the best way to repent for his sins. He sees signs in everything, as if God were presenting him with challenges in order to lead him on the path of righteousness. Other characters are facing a tough decision concerning Johnny Boy. Do they continue to turn the other cheek regarding his mounting debts, or do they clamp down and risk unleashing an avalanche of violence?

There are many things to like about Mean Streets, from Johnny and Charlie’s Of Mice and Men-like friendship to the way the story builds slowly to an impressive, slightly abrupt ending. The film is extremely well acted, and Scorsese uses music perhaps better than any director making films today. At first, “Be My Baby” might seem an odd choice for the film’s opening credits, but the song perfectly captures Charlie’s naiveté and idealized notion of himself and the world he inhabits. Like other Scorsese films, this is not one that has a traditional plot and not all of the scenes lead somewhere specific. They do however shed light on the world in which these characters live and provide insight into each of their personalities. These characters are by no means saints, and the film provides plenty of evidence that some of them are racist. I suspect that this will pose a problem to some modern-day viewers more used to seeing films with models of virtue as leading characters.

Let me go back briefly to something I stated earlier: I don’t get films like Mean Streets. This is unfortunately still true. As I watched Mean Streets, I found myself begging for a reason to care, for a character to emotionally invest in. I realize that not every film needs one, but it helps. Mean Streets is a good film with very interesting characters. That I don’t share other people’s enormous enthusiasm for the film is more a product of my own feelings about the genre as a whole rather than a reflection on Mean Streets in particular. Perhaps I’m looking at it through the wrong lens. (on DVD)

3 stars

Review – The Age of Innocence

August 7, 2009

The Age of Innocence – U.S., 1993

Martin Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence takes place at a curious time in U.S. history. It takes place in the 1870’s, more than twenty years after the push for women’s suffrage began and less than fifteen years after the conclusion of the American Civil War. Recession was just around the corner, and that event would cause both the push for women’s rights and the reconstruction of the South to the backburner. I mention this because the moment Larry Lefferts (Richard E. Grant) and Sillerton Jackson (Alec McCowen) appeared on screen, I could see in them the advantaged status and power that made it so hard for progress on women’s rights to be made. They are not villains in the classic sense of the word. They do not carry weapons or go around stealing elderly women’s purses. In fact, I’m sure most of the people that they socialize with consider them to be model citizens from families that they would be honored to have their children marry into. And yet, they – and the social group that they belong to – are the villains of this film simply because the ideas that they cling to and the words they use to express those ideas have the potential to cause an enormous amount of harm, and they don’t seem to care.

1870’s New York City, as depicted in The Age of Innocence, is filled with powerful families and influential connections. In the film’s opening scene, we learn that Newland Archer (Daniel Day Lewis) and May Welland (Winona Ryder) have recently become engaged. Newland, a lawyer is rather progressive in his ideas regarding the status of women in society. For her part, May seems more interested in people’s private affairs than affairs of the world. She doesn’t share her opinions with him, he explains later, if she even has them at all. However, there is also a sweetness to May, as well as a sense of innocent naïveté, that makes her the kind of young lady any mother would be proud for her son to marry. Towards the beginning of the film, we are also introduced to May’s cousin, Ellen Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer), a woman who married and later fled an abusive European count. While the marriage itself was a scandal, it was nothing compared to the fallout from the ensuing separation. Confronted with the reality that a woman has had the audacity to run away from her husband, May and Newland’s acquaintances are quick to engage in speculation. How exactly did Ellen escape? Where did she stay at that time, and perhaps more importantly who did she stay with? These questions seem more important to people like Lefferts and Jackson than whether Ellen was happy or safe.

With Newland’s help and that of May’s grandmother, Ellen is slowly accepted back into high society, even though she often unwittingly breaks long-standing rules regarding social behavior. Her improved status is a mixed blessing, for it makes her the focus of the attention of one Julius Beaufort (Stuart Wilson), a man known for both his business sense and philandering ways. Soon, Beaufort is visiting her at her house, as well as supposedly private locations. Is it a relationship? It’s hard to say for sure. What matters though is that everyone thinks it is, and what everyone thinks becomes an accepted truth in very little time at all. Public sentiment turns further against her when she broaches the subject of divorce, an idea that Newland supports, but which others see as being against the nature of womanhood.

In Scorsese’s skilled hands, The Age of Innocence hits all the right spots. The movie flows at a flawless pace, allowing conversations to develop just as they would in the real world. Topics are raised naturally, divergent opinions are expressed, and politeness is ever present. It’s easy to miss the subtle hints that what is being said during these conversations is not staying just between the two people engaged in the conversation. In addition, Daniel Day Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Winona Ryder each give incredible performances, and I can say with confidence that this is my favorite of Daniel Day Lewis’ many amazing acting jobs.

It would be wrong to label The Age of Innocence as the story of a man torn between two women, for that label would imply that Newland were free to choose one over the other. Rather, the film is about a man torn between the woman he is expected to marry and the one society prevents him from marrying. As he explains it, while legislation favors divorce, society does not. The only way for Newland and Ellen to consummate their love would be to have an affair, yet to do so would cast all of Newland’s generous and honorable acts in a new, much less noble light. They would now have been done to achieve a rather immoral goal. And so to preserve Newland’s integrity, their love must not be acted on. “I can’t love you unless I give you up,” Ellen tells him. It’s a comment that probably makes him love her even more. (on DVD)

4 stars