Some may love this early Keitel movie but it is one hell of an ugly little bugger, with awkward sex, a fumbled rape and a vigorous rectal exploration. The drab 70s streets of New York are atmospheric but not much else is.
Keitel carries around transistor radio on which he plays late 50s early 60s pop wherever he goes. At home however he is practising to be a concert hall pianist and we have to listen to large bouts of Bach while he pretends to be oh so involved. It is a strange fidgety performance, clearly at the behest of Toback, who has his mother in a mental hospital and his mobster father acting even more like a nut.
Sorry not for me.
Keitel carries around transistor radio on which he plays late 50s early 60s pop wherever he goes. At home however he is practising to be a concert hall pianist and we have to listen to large bouts of Bach while he pretends to be oh so involved. It is a strange fidgety performance, clearly at the behest of Toback, who has his mother in a mental hospital and his mobster father acting even more like a nut.
Sorry not for me.