Sometimes, the laws of the lawless are more honest, honorable and severe than those that bind the mainstream. “The Only Living Pickpocket in New York” captures this dynamic through a small, character-driven drama centered on Harry (John Turturro), a semi-successful pickpocket in New York who hasn’t got the memo that no one carries cash in their wallets anymore and who abhors cellphones. Should he boost one, he’s immediately confounded by it and near always, tosses the device into the nearest trash bin.
The film draws heavily on throwbacks without ever feeling cliched or borrowed, a rare accomplishment. The central theme of a man out of touch and out of time has been done many a time before on screen but few directed with the tenderness and fury of Noah Segan. It stands with “The Wild Bunch” (1969), Sam Peckinpah’s elegiac framing of the fading west, or “The Friends of Eddie Coyle” (1974), where Robert Mitchum’s small-time Boston hood has his fate sealed but is too naïve to know it. Like those films, “Pickpocket” shows us how living and operating outside the law comes with freedoms, quick riches — and unmitigable consequences.
Harry’s a soloist with a network — his trusty fence played by Steve Buscemi and adored wife Rosie (Karina Arroyave, who is angelic in the part). Rosie’s in a catatonic state from a massive stroke, and that’s where the burden of fate and consequences squares our sympathies. Harry is deeply in love with his wife and as we catch up with him, pretty much exists for her. Picking her up from daycare after casing the streets for a score, he then has to carry her up flights of stairs to their walk-up apartment. Harry’s daily routine takes a turn when he fleeces a privileged punk with ties to both the Ivy league and the mob (and a vintage muscle car to boot). It seems like a justifiable transfer of wealth, but bigger factors and staunch codes come into play.
Aesthetically, Segan has it bad for New York City and the gritty films that came before. The soulful score and imagery of Harry’s languid form confidently flowing through the crowded cityscape are clearly an homage to Blaxploitation classics “Shaft” (1971) and “Superfly” (1972). There’s also the name of our protagonist that calls to mind “Harry in Your Pocket,” the 1973 Seattle set grifter flick starring James Colburn and Michael Sarrazin as a master and the upstart who throw in together. There’s a scene on the subway where Harry spies a younger hand practicing the trade and when he tries to fleece Harry — Harry baits him — there’s a meeting of the minds on technique and changing times.
Among those changes: cryptocurrency, which plays a part in determining Harry’s fate. How the die is cast, I will not say, but Harry’s journey through the day and the cityscape is like a life in review, with crossings that bear the prospect of redemption and atonement. The film is an absolute showcase for Turturro — recently in the A.R.T.’s production of Ionesco’s “Rhinoceros” — who has done this kind of thing so good and for so long starting with “To Live and Die in LA” (1985) and best underscored in his work with the Coen brothers—“Miller’s Crossing” (1991) and “Barton Fink” (1992). Here, his Harry is a richer, more complete culmination of those punks and wayward souls at the crossroads. It may just be his most nuanced performance to date and feels almost custom-written for the usual supporting performer. The glove fits well. “The Only Pickpocket in New York” is also a move that will likely break your heart. — Tom Meek
Playing at the Somerville Theatre
A stronger
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