I really hated it. There is NO plot here. It's just a few days in the lives of these idealistic go-alongs with Harvey Keitel having the most screen time. Yeah, I saw the spiffy DVD with a macho, young DeNiro on the back and thought "Hey, this might be cool. Mean Streets, huh? Scorsese? Okay, I'll bite. It's probably pretty good." Yeah - as good as a big face rash on photo op day. DeNiro is SUPPORTING actor. The best thing in the whole movie was when he blew up the mailbox. While they were at it, too bad nobody threw the script and screenplay in there.
Scorsese's [randomly experimentational] direction was moody and lost all novelty after a short while. So did the overly saturated "song system" stream-lined through you'd think they forgot to turn off the radio while they filmed. Watching a movie should be fun, whether it's perverted fun or bloodlust fun, wallowing fun, emotional pitfall or escapist fun - you should still have a good time while you melt away your life in front of the little glowing screen that solves all your problems for just a little while. But Mean Streets? Stale and depressing. Afterwards, I felt like I died (which, in terms of living, defeats the entire purpose, now doesn't it). I'm not saying I wanted a sunshiny, happily-ever-after marshmallow ending. I'm just saying the WHOLE thing was sad and lonely. Everything was so tormented, the part where they walked into the cemetery, the mood actually lightened up.
Mean Streets could have gone on for hours and hours. But OOPS lookee here, the 2 hour mark is coming up, so it's time to shut down Hollywood. Let's go for a big, completely unpredictable splashy ending to prove we're still macho (justifying all of our girlie, mushy romantic moments) and wam bam there we go. Aren't we clever?
Scorsese did Goodfellas. So what? What the hell does Goodfellas have to do with Mean Streets? You know it's a bad movie when a filmmaker's future work is name-dropped to justify past work. Maybe I'm overanalyzing. Mean Streets just wasn't my style. I'm sure some conformists out there liked it because 1970s American Cinema History dictates Scorsese is ONE of the FEW, and since he's friends with Spielberg, Lucas and Coppola (our honorary demi-gods, let's face it, these people are practically our fathers) so to be critically popular we sell the product. Almost without thought, we sell the merchandise, scared to death to look at it hard enough to realize what it AIN'T. But I'll do us all the favor and call it as I see it ::: Mean Streets needs to be closed down for repairs. Divert your traffic elsewhere. For the love of Spielberg, take a DETOUR.
I'll be over at Cafe Fellini on 23rd and 4th.
Scorsese's [randomly experimentational] direction was moody and lost all novelty after a short while. So did the overly saturated "song system" stream-lined through you'd think they forgot to turn off the radio while they filmed. Watching a movie should be fun, whether it's perverted fun or bloodlust fun, wallowing fun, emotional pitfall or escapist fun - you should still have a good time while you melt away your life in front of the little glowing screen that solves all your problems for just a little while. But Mean Streets? Stale and depressing. Afterwards, I felt like I died (which, in terms of living, defeats the entire purpose, now doesn't it). I'm not saying I wanted a sunshiny, happily-ever-after marshmallow ending. I'm just saying the WHOLE thing was sad and lonely. Everything was so tormented, the part where they walked into the cemetery, the mood actually lightened up.
Mean Streets could have gone on for hours and hours. But OOPS lookee here, the 2 hour mark is coming up, so it's time to shut down Hollywood. Let's go for a big, completely unpredictable splashy ending to prove we're still macho (justifying all of our girlie, mushy romantic moments) and wam bam there we go. Aren't we clever?
Scorsese did Goodfellas. So what? What the hell does Goodfellas have to do with Mean Streets? You know it's a bad movie when a filmmaker's future work is name-dropped to justify past work. Maybe I'm overanalyzing. Mean Streets just wasn't my style. I'm sure some conformists out there liked it because 1970s American Cinema History dictates Scorsese is ONE of the FEW, and since he's friends with Spielberg, Lucas and Coppola (our honorary demi-gods, let's face it, these people are practically our fathers) so to be critically popular we sell the product. Almost without thought, we sell the merchandise, scared to death to look at it hard enough to realize what it AIN'T. But I'll do us all the favor and call it as I see it ::: Mean Streets needs to be closed down for repairs. Divert your traffic elsewhere. For the love of Spielberg, take a DETOUR.
I'll be over at Cafe Fellini on 23rd and 4th.