Post by Boz on Aug 17, 2006 16:49:09 GMT
Mean Streets
Martin Scorsese 1973[/color]
My second viewing of what is Marty's first true film, and my first since gaining a wider perspective on his body of work. Perhaps the closest Scorsese would ever come to an autobiography, Mean Streets is a charmingly familiar portrait of Charlie, an up and coming hood in New York trying to deal with his friends, his elders, and his girlfriend. Scorsese exhibits his early tendencies towards quick cuts and drastic variations between long shots and close ups, techniques that would come to define him and his unique approach. Scenes like our first introduction to Charlie's girlfriend Teresa display Scorsese doing what he does best; examining his character's thought processes, utilizing his sharp sense of ironic humor, and adding depth through voice over narration.
You can really sense Marty's familiarity with this type of environment. Each scene is presented to us as if it's a place we've known all our lives, all the ins and outs, every nook and cranny. He seems to feel more at ease with his characters, giving them more background and depth than in any of his other gangster films. Our central focus, Charlie, is our most complex character, and his friends serve to reflect certain aspects of his personality. They showcase his insecurities at times, and his ego at others. Charlie's internal struggles are effectively played out on the screen; do his loyalties lie in tradition and the search for respect, or in recklessness and fun.
Charlie acts almost as an outsider to the events of his life, occasionally retreating into his subconscious to reflect on everything that's going on around him. In this way, Charlie is noticeably similar to Henry in Goodfellas, except that while Henry's afflictions are of the material and superficial sort, Charlie finds himself battling more with moral and ethical dilemmas and temptations. Despite the differences between Charlie’s friends, every one of them shows signs of self-doubt and insecurity. Whether it’s Johnny Boy constantly needing to defend his pride through fighting, or Michael scrambling to avoid looking like a fool in front of the ever-present wiseguys, or Charlie refusing to become emotionally attached to Teresa, despite the amount of affection she shows him. It’s interesting to note how the three movie clips shown (from The Searchers, The Big Heat, and The Tomb of Ligeria) so directly reflect the actions and emotions of the characters in the real film.
Despite how much attention Scorsese gives to his characters, they only serve as part of the film as a whole. Two other key elements, the music and the setting, work to complete the picture. The addition of music here, while not as sophisticated as Goodfellas or Casino, works beautifully throughout the whole piece. It’s amazing how well Scorsese uses music to compliment or contradict the different scenes. While I’m not sure where Scorsese picked up this technique, it’s clearly influenced the generations of filmmakers that followed. One noticeable difference here is that more often than not, the music has a clear source, whether it be a car stereo or the jukebox in Tony’s bar. In his later work, Scorsese often adds music without indicating a source, which serves to make it more atmospheric or nostalgic in some respects, and ultimately seems to work better.
As for the settings, our main focus point, Tony’s bar, provides a fitting showcase for all the action. Constantly bathed in an all-consuming crimson light that’s highly reminiscent of the Bamboo Lounge in Goodfellas, Tony’s is the place where our characters are established and proceed to develop. It also provides for some of the best cinematic moments in all of Scorsese’s filmography; the harness-cam shot of Charlie when he’s drunk, the extended, heavily accented conversation between Charlie and Johnny Boy when we first meet him, and several slow motion scenes set to music that just work so well. It must also be noted that as for the larger picture, the city of New York itself, Scorsese pays a surprisingly small amount of attention to it, perhaps because it is mostly portrayed in a positive light. Think of Taxi Driver, where the city plays an important role, but in a negative context. The variation between Scorsese’ s depiction serves to reflect the mindsets of his characters; Charlie, traditional and content, and Travis, depressed and angry.
Lastly, you can’t watch Mean Streets without mentioning Robert DeNiro. In a markedly different performance than nearly any other character he has played before or since, DeNiro steals the show as the reckless, wild Johnny Boy Civello. It’s amazing to watch him here and think that less than a year later he’d be channeling the stoic, reserved Vito Corleone in The Godfather Pt II. I loved how in the one scene where Johnny Boy sneaks across the apartment building rooftops, he crouches and looks down into the street at one moment, much like Vito in GFII, and then quickly stands up and raises his hands triumphantly in the air, eerily similar to his portrayal of Jake LaMotta seven years later. Predicting the future? Perhaps.
Overall, this film that previously had served only as an early indication of Scorsese’s future talent in my mind, now stands on its own. We can already see glimpses of his smooth rapid camera moves, his genius use of music, his love of New York, and his portrayal of some of his own personal demons. Mean Streets ends in a fitting final scene in which Scorsese perhaps portrays some of his own feelings about his life and his maturation. We see Charlie, but hear only opera music and an audience clapping, and then finally, several people slamming their windows to drown out the commotion in the street below. Scorsese is saying something about his life here, about how he may feel isolated, almost as if his life, his insecurities and his faults, are on display, like a show for all to see, much like Charlie, and how in the end, despite all of his efforts, no one will help him. No one is listening.
Martin Scorsese 1973[/color]
My second viewing of what is Marty's first true film, and my first since gaining a wider perspective on his body of work. Perhaps the closest Scorsese would ever come to an autobiography, Mean Streets is a charmingly familiar portrait of Charlie, an up and coming hood in New York trying to deal with his friends, his elders, and his girlfriend. Scorsese exhibits his early tendencies towards quick cuts and drastic variations between long shots and close ups, techniques that would come to define him and his unique approach. Scenes like our first introduction to Charlie's girlfriend Teresa display Scorsese doing what he does best; examining his character's thought processes, utilizing his sharp sense of ironic humor, and adding depth through voice over narration.
You can really sense Marty's familiarity with this type of environment. Each scene is presented to us as if it's a place we've known all our lives, all the ins and outs, every nook and cranny. He seems to feel more at ease with his characters, giving them more background and depth than in any of his other gangster films. Our central focus, Charlie, is our most complex character, and his friends serve to reflect certain aspects of his personality. They showcase his insecurities at times, and his ego at others. Charlie's internal struggles are effectively played out on the screen; do his loyalties lie in tradition and the search for respect, or in recklessness and fun.
Charlie acts almost as an outsider to the events of his life, occasionally retreating into his subconscious to reflect on everything that's going on around him. In this way, Charlie is noticeably similar to Henry in Goodfellas, except that while Henry's afflictions are of the material and superficial sort, Charlie finds himself battling more with moral and ethical dilemmas and temptations. Despite the differences between Charlie’s friends, every one of them shows signs of self-doubt and insecurity. Whether it’s Johnny Boy constantly needing to defend his pride through fighting, or Michael scrambling to avoid looking like a fool in front of the ever-present wiseguys, or Charlie refusing to become emotionally attached to Teresa, despite the amount of affection she shows him. It’s interesting to note how the three movie clips shown (from The Searchers, The Big Heat, and The Tomb of Ligeria) so directly reflect the actions and emotions of the characters in the real film.
Despite how much attention Scorsese gives to his characters, they only serve as part of the film as a whole. Two other key elements, the music and the setting, work to complete the picture. The addition of music here, while not as sophisticated as Goodfellas or Casino, works beautifully throughout the whole piece. It’s amazing how well Scorsese uses music to compliment or contradict the different scenes. While I’m not sure where Scorsese picked up this technique, it’s clearly influenced the generations of filmmakers that followed. One noticeable difference here is that more often than not, the music has a clear source, whether it be a car stereo or the jukebox in Tony’s bar. In his later work, Scorsese often adds music without indicating a source, which serves to make it more atmospheric or nostalgic in some respects, and ultimately seems to work better.
As for the settings, our main focus point, Tony’s bar, provides a fitting showcase for all the action. Constantly bathed in an all-consuming crimson light that’s highly reminiscent of the Bamboo Lounge in Goodfellas, Tony’s is the place where our characters are established and proceed to develop. It also provides for some of the best cinematic moments in all of Scorsese’s filmography; the harness-cam shot of Charlie when he’s drunk, the extended, heavily accented conversation between Charlie and Johnny Boy when we first meet him, and several slow motion scenes set to music that just work so well. It must also be noted that as for the larger picture, the city of New York itself, Scorsese pays a surprisingly small amount of attention to it, perhaps because it is mostly portrayed in a positive light. Think of Taxi Driver, where the city plays an important role, but in a negative context. The variation between Scorsese’ s depiction serves to reflect the mindsets of his characters; Charlie, traditional and content, and Travis, depressed and angry.
Lastly, you can’t watch Mean Streets without mentioning Robert DeNiro. In a markedly different performance than nearly any other character he has played before or since, DeNiro steals the show as the reckless, wild Johnny Boy Civello. It’s amazing to watch him here and think that less than a year later he’d be channeling the stoic, reserved Vito Corleone in The Godfather Pt II. I loved how in the one scene where Johnny Boy sneaks across the apartment building rooftops, he crouches and looks down into the street at one moment, much like Vito in GFII, and then quickly stands up and raises his hands triumphantly in the air, eerily similar to his portrayal of Jake LaMotta seven years later. Predicting the future? Perhaps.
Overall, this film that previously had served only as an early indication of Scorsese’s future talent in my mind, now stands on its own. We can already see glimpses of his smooth rapid camera moves, his genius use of music, his love of New York, and his portrayal of some of his own personal demons. Mean Streets ends in a fitting final scene in which Scorsese perhaps portrays some of his own feelings about his life and his maturation. We see Charlie, but hear only opera music and an audience clapping, and then finally, several people slamming their windows to drown out the commotion in the street below. Scorsese is saying something about his life here, about how he may feel isolated, almost as if his life, his insecurities and his faults, are on display, like a show for all to see, much like Charlie, and how in the end, despite all of his efforts, no one will help him. No one is listening.