Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Pawnbroker (USA, 1964, Sidney Lumet)

Ben Livant:


Somewhere between the Taxi Driver New York of Martin Scorsese, the Annie Hall New York of Woody Allen and the Do The Right Thing New York of Spike Lee is a good beginning suggestion of the New York that came into my mind as an adolescent visiting relatives there and eventually living there for a year. In short, the mid 70s to early 80s. Although I have been to New York many times since then, that time continues to constitute my frame of reference. It is relative to this that Sidney Lumet's work from the 60s is so fascinating for me. I am engaged by that-New-York-then for what about it was and what about it was not to become the New York of my frame of reference.

I have caught near-the-end bits of The Pawnbroker on the TV twice over the years, but I of these I remembered only the authentically New York setting when I put the disc in the machine last week. The atmosphere of the film is indeed genuine. Lumet is nothing if not a socially conscious realist. But I was also impressed by how much cinemantic style is present. The performances are ultra-naturalistic. Stieger turns in a characterization that rightfully established him as one of the leading method players on the scene, and the rest are solid too. Yet, there is no shortage of obvious blocking and tracking to achieve clearly pre-conceived mis en scene results. Throw in the tight cutting to indicate instantaneous flashbacks and the sometimes too-effective soundtrack by Quincy Jones and the whole thing really knocked me out for it's artistry as much as for it's on-location grit.



Thematically, as cautious as I am in 2011 about any Holocaust facts becoming the ideological property of Zionist ideology in general and Israeli policy legitimations in particular, the dramatic power of the story of a camp survivor who is psychologically damanged past any kind of humanistic repair is beyond reproach. This is especially the case considering that The Pawnbroker was made in 1965, two decades after the end of WWII when the topic of Holocaust survival was only just beginning to be addressed in the mainstream. Perhaps this explains why the film enters into its topic with a pretty high degree moralistic restraint. It makes its point with narrative economy and emotional sophistication in a socially complex contemporary context. Not just the acting, the screenplay is damn good.


Looking at it from a post Spike-Lee perspective, The Pawnbroker displays a white, liberal fear of portraying blacks specifically in any sort of negative light. So there are certain multi-cultural social groupings in the film that are a little bit bogus. On the other hand, there are individual depictions across all the races that are remarkably progressive for their diverse inclusion and veracity. Over all, The Pawnbroker stands today as one of the great pieces of New York neo-realism, and I use the latter category precisely to suggest that the American development in the 60s probably best represented by Lumet is coming out of certain fundamentals of the Italian development in the 40s.

Dan Jardine:

Saw this one as a kid on TV. Impressed and terrified the hell outta me.

A famous clip from the Pawnbroker:



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