Nobody would accuse this tale of being taut. It meanders around sufficiently that we get to know the characters, their families, their values -- and therein lies its charm. Eric Roberts is Pauli, the reckless Italian optimist, and Mickey Rourke is his more sensible, principled Irish cousin. The milieu is New York City and it is captured most impressively. These two street proletarians -- waiters and busboys -- ooze with the desire to own a Coupe deVille. Roberts brags that he never ordered a brandy that wasn't Courvoisier VSOP. Their ambition and their taste are palpable. I say this despite having grown up in the area without the slightest desire to live their life styles and lacking any intense affection for Frank Sinatra.
Basically, the plot is a cross-cousin of "Mean Streets", with Rourke in the Harvey Keitel role and Roberts as the maniacal DeNiro. Not to suggest that this is an imitation of anything else. The writer, Vincent Patrick, has street lingo down pat, even to the smallest parts, and Stuart Rosemberg has executed it flawlessly. Even "mozarella" comes out properly as "moozarell." The two cousins alternately joke and fight with one another, depending on their position on the regression line between Robert's wild schemes and Rourke's more banal impulses. Roberts puts a "horse physic" in the drink of a ruthless cop. He engineers a lucrative burglary with the help of Rourke and a locksmith, Kenneth MacMillan, that results in the accidental death of a corrupt police officer, Jack Kehoe, whose only motive for being corrupt was to make enough money to move him and his sickly mother, Geraldine Page, to Phoenix in order to improve her health. (As I said, the script meanders, but meaningfully.) Geraldine Page gives a fine performance, by the way, as the self-destructive tough-as-nails street-savvy Mom.
The money from the burglary belonged to the neighborhood Mr. Big, a villainous and revengeful Burt Young, who forces MacMillan to leave his family and blow town. He also removes one of Eric Roberts' digits. And just as he is having a duel of wits with the third party to the crime, Rourke, Roberts feeds Burt Young a cup of espresso filled with lye. The poisoned Young leaps through the storefront window and runs off down the street. The last shot has Roberts and Rourke strolling off, carefree, down the street, arguing about whether it would be better to live in Miami. That's a bit of a weak ending. Given Burt Young's vengeful nature and his position in the organization, I wouldn't give two cents for either of their well-clad behinds. If they wind up as lowly waiters again they'll be lucky.
Well, I suppose I've made the film sounds like a terrible tragedy, but it's not. The street lingo and many of the incidents make it as much comic as anything else. One of Roberts' schemes has to do with betting a bundle on a horse that absolutely cannot lose. But Roberts' knows as little about racing as he does about keeping out of trouble. He's confused about which part of a stallion must be removed to turn it into a gelding. He's concerned about the colors of the jockey because it makes him look like a fairy. Roberts bets the whole shebang on a win, and the horse loses in a photo finish. The more prudent Rourke has made twenty large by betting on the horse across the board.
It's a pretty good movie, full of well-drawn colorful characters and considerable suspense and humor.
Basically, the plot is a cross-cousin of "Mean Streets", with Rourke in the Harvey Keitel role and Roberts as the maniacal DeNiro. Not to suggest that this is an imitation of anything else. The writer, Vincent Patrick, has street lingo down pat, even to the smallest parts, and Stuart Rosemberg has executed it flawlessly. Even "mozarella" comes out properly as "moozarell." The two cousins alternately joke and fight with one another, depending on their position on the regression line between Robert's wild schemes and Rourke's more banal impulses. Roberts puts a "horse physic" in the drink of a ruthless cop. He engineers a lucrative burglary with the help of Rourke and a locksmith, Kenneth MacMillan, that results in the accidental death of a corrupt police officer, Jack Kehoe, whose only motive for being corrupt was to make enough money to move him and his sickly mother, Geraldine Page, to Phoenix in order to improve her health. (As I said, the script meanders, but meaningfully.) Geraldine Page gives a fine performance, by the way, as the self-destructive tough-as-nails street-savvy Mom.
The money from the burglary belonged to the neighborhood Mr. Big, a villainous and revengeful Burt Young, who forces MacMillan to leave his family and blow town. He also removes one of Eric Roberts' digits. And just as he is having a duel of wits with the third party to the crime, Rourke, Roberts feeds Burt Young a cup of espresso filled with lye. The poisoned Young leaps through the storefront window and runs off down the street. The last shot has Roberts and Rourke strolling off, carefree, down the street, arguing about whether it would be better to live in Miami. That's a bit of a weak ending. Given Burt Young's vengeful nature and his position in the organization, I wouldn't give two cents for either of their well-clad behinds. If they wind up as lowly waiters again they'll be lucky.
Well, I suppose I've made the film sounds like a terrible tragedy, but it's not. The street lingo and many of the incidents make it as much comic as anything else. One of Roberts' schemes has to do with betting a bundle on a horse that absolutely cannot lose. But Roberts' knows as little about racing as he does about keeping out of trouble. He's confused about which part of a stallion must be removed to turn it into a gelding. He's concerned about the colors of the jockey because it makes him look like a fairy. Roberts bets the whole shebang on a win, and the horse loses in a photo finish. The more prudent Rourke has made twenty large by betting on the horse across the board.
It's a pretty good movie, full of well-drawn colorful characters and considerable suspense and humor.