THE STORY – When a theft goes awry, a veteran pickpocket is sent on a mission through New York to reclaim the stolen goods.
THE CAST – John Turturro, Giancarlo Esposito, Will Price, Tatiana Maslany & Steve Buscemi
THE TEAM – Noah Segan (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 88 Minutes
There’s a fine line between appreciating nostalgia and ignorantly living in the past. It’s one thing to have complaints about the quirks and troubles of modern innovations; it’s another to completely write off every advancement that’s been made since one’s younger days. “The Only Living Pickpocket in New York,” the excellent new feature from writer-director Noah Segan, looks to the past with a sense of melancholic understanding that a return to the way things were is simply impossible. He’s crafted a story with gentle affection for its main character, despite his unseemly line of work. Led by a terrifically tender performance by John Turturro, it’s a classy, enjoyable, lovely film about a man out of time, coming to terms with the fact that the world he occupies is no longer the world he knows.
Turturro plays Harry, a man who’s managed to make a life for himself by pilfering the goods and belongings of others. He doesn’t live large, but even the most law-abiding person would admire that he’s managed to survive into the twilight of his life in such an underground, inherently dangerous line of work. His most commonly lifted objects are watches and wallets, but he only seems interested in the latter for the cash they contain, with increasing rarity. We even see him tossing a wallet containing zero greenbacks into the mailbox, clearly not interested in credit cards. He sells his goods to his old friend Ben (Steve Buscemi), the owner of a local pawn shop. Like Harry, Ben has little interest in the manners and material goods of the present day. His boxy desktop computer is hilariously in need of a years-overdue upgrade, and he knows the value in buying and selling watches meant simply to tell time, and to do so for decades, rather than a tool for sending a text from your wrist. One day, after snagging a gym bag from the car of a truly obnoxious zoomer named Dylan (Will Price), Harry discovers a strange credit card in his wallet that has a USB attached to it. Ben can’t help him, but he recommends that Harry take it to someone who can fence it. However, this is no ordinary swipe. Harry has inadvertently grabbed a crucial piece of crypto technology, and it’s not long before the well-connected Dylan tracks him down and forces him to fix the situation or face serious consequences.
Segan’s witty, well-structured screenplay totally immerses viewers in its characters’ specific world. A wordless opening montage draws the audience into Harry’s daily life as he slickly nab a rich man’s wallet unnoticed. It’s a fantastically effective introduction to the central character and his environment, which presumably most viewers know little about. The dialogue also helps envelop viewers in the realm of thieves. Harry and his fellow black-market companions share a unique lexicon of shorthandshorthand and slang. Segan doesn’t explain what these words mean; it’s up to the audience to figure it out through context. Listening to the characters talk feels like overhearing a conversation about an unknown subject and slowly, but naturally, picking up the intention behind what’s being said.
Turturro brings Harry to life with classic cool energy. He represents the best that New York has to offer, despite his untoward profession. He’s ultra street smart and quick, but also fair and kind to those who deserve it. Anyone who’s spent significant time in the city that never sleeps will recognize the type. There’s always something compelling and unexpectedly admirable about watching someone operate under a strict code of thievery. After all, every line of work in America steals from someone in one way or another; Harry and his colleagues just don’t pretend to do otherwise. Turturro makes for the perfect honorable thief. It’s impossible not to want to see him succeed, especially when things get really dicey for him. Buscemi is the ideal supporting player, adding an extra endearing quality to the film’s world. It’s the kind of sketchy but lovable role the legendary character actor could play in his sleep, but that doesn’t make his performance any less enjoyable. Fans of the two actors’ frequent collaborations with the Coen Brothers will be in heaven. And the always-excellent Giancarlo Esposito and Tatiana Maslany both turn in brief but fully-realized performances as compelling figures from Harry’s past.
Segan crafts a film that serves as a loving throwback in both aesthetic and spirit. With its cozy bass-and-brass score by Gary Lionelli and grounded, no-frills cinematography, the film calls to mind the city-set crime masterpieces of the ’70s and ’80s. And the film’s tightly constructed, well-thought-out environment only makes this comparison even more true. This is a movie for those whowho love films set in the 20th-century era of 20th-centuryurban decay, centered on crooked men and even more crooked men of the law, often with a penchant for donning long jackets.
As the film goes along, Harry starts acting with a sense of decreased urgency that feels at odds with the high stakes of his situation. It causes the film’s pacing to slow down, but never fear, it all comes together in the end. Segan clearly knows what he’s doing and how to wrap up his story satisfyingly. In fact, the final shots are a subtle, silent visualization of the backward-looking themes he’s been exploring throughout the film that preceded it. It’s a moving, elegant conclusion.
The film opens with the lyrics “New York, I love you, but you’re bringing me down,” the opening refrain of the LCD Soundsystem song of the same name. It’s the perfect start for “The Only Living Pickpocket in New York,” succinctly summing up the “I’d never leave it, but I’ve got some complaints” energy that so many native New Yorkers like Harry share. And like the metropolis itself, Segan’s film is grimy, slick, and the perfect mix of old and new. The city may always be changing, but no matter how hard it’s scrubbed, it’ll always have an element of strangely endearing grime, and Turturro’s Harry represents the best of this unexpectedly romantic notion that’s so distinctly New York.
