How The Deuce Gets Gritty, Grimy, Glorious 7. New York Right. If nothing else (and there’s plenty else), The Deuce, premiering Sunday on HBO, gets midtown crudball New York in the 7.

It specifically nails the early 7. Nixon Watergate scandal infiltrated every pore. Other recent 7. 0s- set series—Vinyl, the coke- driven dive into the music biz that was canceled after one expensive season by HBO, and I’m Dying Up Here, Showtime’s docudrama about the L. A. comedy scene that coughed up David Letterman, Jay Leno, Robin Williams, Andy Kaufman, Richard Pryor, and Elayne Boosler—poured the period- recreation production values on slick and heavy, but both came across as processed facsimiles.

The wigs rested on the actors’ heads like birds’ nests, and everybody looked too actory- healthy (flawless skin, toned bodies) for their scurvy, scraping- by, desperate characters. Even the wrist action in the way the casts smoked looked too studied and self- conscious. But The Deuce, nicknamed for the chunk of Times Square teeming with pimps, porn shops, prostitutes, dirty cops, and a supporting army of lowlife degenerates oozing daily out of Port Authority bus terminal, lifts the giant manhole cover over the district and drops us in.

The filthy streets jaundiced by neon light and strewn with discarded mattresses and torn newspapers, the movie marquees touting Mondo Trasho, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, and Duck, You Sucker!, the graffiti spreading everywhere like malignant calligraphy, the car honking and shouted curses—everything looks so palpably real that you might get a fungus just watching the show. Feel free to quote me, HBO.)The series begins in 1. Pauline Kael published a famous review of The French Connection in The New Yorker called “Urban Gothic,” which explored the cinema- fication of Manhattan as “New York- made movies have provided a permanent record of the city in breakdown”—movies such as Klute, Little Murders, Midnight Cowboy, Shaft, Cotton Comes to Harlem, The Panic in Needle Park, and Woody Allen’s. Bananas, not to mention the films that director Sidney Lumet had in store.

There’s a sense of carnival about this urban- crisis city; everybody seems dressed for a mad ball,” Kael wrote. The psychotic violence on the screen was mirrored by the psychotic violence on the streets and vice versa, the air inside and outside the theaters hovering with stabbing menace. A couple of college students in The Deuce are overheard debating over whether to catch a late showing of Play Misty for Me or Straw Dogs.) And in 1. Sodom and Gomorrah on the Hudson. I arrived in New York a year later, just in time for the full festivities.) The first glimmer of Times Square’s renewal and redemption wouldn’t be seen until 1. A Chorus Line opened on Broadway.

But even then, Kael’s apprehensive vision still held—that it was impossible to look around and picture the streets ever being clean again. Now that the streets are clean and Times Square is a mall replica of itself, that era is missed and eulogized, and it’s more than nostalgia peering through a grimy rear window. All that danger and survival- mode know- how charged the city with a rude, drumming energy, friction, and make- do attitude that incited a creative upsurge in dance, music, art, journalism, and personal expression unmatched since. The action came from the ground up, and The Deuce runs a superb ground game. Created by crime novelist George Pelacanos and David Simon, with a debut episode directed by Michelle Mac.

Laren, a second by Ernest R. Dickerson, and writing by both novelist Megan Abbott and Richard Price, poet laureate of police argot, the result is a first- class operation about a community of low- class operatives. If Simon’s canonical crime epic The Wire earned the adjective “Dickensian” due to its complex, multi- strata narrative lines and singular personalities who grew into pop archetypes, The Deuce might be better be described as Balzacian in its beasty appetites and beady- eyed cunning. As in Balzac (and Zola), the rapacious underworld puffs up its ego by pretending it’s engaged in a Darwinian streetwise struggle that’s primal and binary—where there’s only the hustler and the hustled, the player and the played, the eater and the eaten.

But what the TV- makers peel open is a picaresque scene where everything is transactional, tactical, subject to basic arithmetic. When a prostitute protests to her pimp that her nightly take was light because she’s having her period, he barks, “Double up on the sucks,” something they don’t teach you at Harvard Business School. The characters put into motion here don’t regard Times Square as a freak show or exotic zoo. Instead, it’s a no- class business district where the regulars all know each other by name. The two main hangouts in The Deuce are Leon’s, a diner frequented by pimps, hos, and other assorted flotsam, and The Hi- Hat, a dive bar frequented by the same riffraff, but with a wider assortment of drop- ins. The scenes in both play out like community theater in the raw: the diner for matinee productions, the dive bar for the nocturnal trade.

Some scenes play better than others, because pimps are inherently monotonous as bullshit artists and bullies, and too much of the dialogue in the night spots plays like warmed- over Scorsese. But so much in the scripts hits the real rueful, brusque notes of jaunty resignation—a prostitute clocking in for her shift at a massage parlor with “Another day, another bunch of dicks,” or an older pro, having just serviced a soldier, patting the bed and saying, “O. K., G. I. Joe, up and out, need the room.” (There’s also an abundance of mordant humor: a prospective baby- faced black hooker is dismissed as a “Chocolate Gidget.”)The chief dual protagonists in The Deuce are twin brothers, Vincent and Frankie, both played by James Franco. In each role, Franco is locked in and persuasive, his eyes absent of that float- away wateriness they sometimes get; the scenes between the two brothers never come across as a stunt. But the conception of siblings ricocheting around in the crime biz—one responsible and dogged (Vincent), the other impulsive and volatile (Frankie)—is a hand- me- down from countless gangster epics. Their relationship is essentially Harvey Keitel and Robert De Niro in Mean Streets, the dutiful worrier constantly bailing out the piss- off provocateur. It’s a classic trope handled well, but we’ve been here before.

Cast and crew, synopsis, related links, and user comments.

The girl's name is Bree, and the movie should probably be titled Bree instead of "Klute," because the Fonda character is at the center. John Klute (played by Donald.

• You Know It When You See It How The Deuce Gets Gritty, Grimy, Glorious 70s New York Right.
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• New York City is a place that more than most is built on a self-created image, and that image has been exported far and wide via the movies, which is to say that.
• Klute is a 1971 American neo-noir crime-thriller film directed and produced by Alan J. Pakula, written by Andy and Dave Lewis, and starring Jane Fonda, Donald.
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The holds true at the outset for the older pro, a street hooker who calls herself Candy (real name, Eileen), played by Maggie Gyllenhaal. Her bone- weary, bruised plight and soul fatigue familiar from a score of films and documentaries—but her path eventually assumes a different direction. On the stroll as a lone ranger (she refuses to have a pimp), Candy suffers a string of bad luck that causes a lot of personal breakage; episode 4, “I See Money,” is bookended by a pair of blowjobs gone bad. One earns Candy an honored sobriquet from her confreres: the “mouth of death.”) There’s a dark Charles Bukowski slapstick to such travails, and although Gyllenhaal at first overdoes the sass and slouch and her blonde, curly wig is a bit too Little Orphan Annie (although perhaps the closer resemblance is to Hanna Schygulla in Fassbinder’s Katzelmacher), she reveals stoical depth and adaptive reserves as we learn more of her double life.

After a horrific beating from a brutish john nearly scrambles her face, Candy migrates in fits and starts to the porn scene in its bastard infancy. The judicial tossing of obscenity cases and the camouflage of “community standards” and “redeeming social value” has opened just enough of a crack for the mob- run peepshow business to expand big- time.) Once Candy takes roost on the crumb- bum film set and lets her brunette side show, she sheds the street persona and we see a star in the making—a Georgina Spelvin or Veronica Hart, if you happen to know those hallowed names.

New York City Crime Movies: 2. Movies You Need To Watch. There are any number of reasons to be excited for “A Most Violent Year” which bows at the AFI Fest today prior to opening on New Year’s Eve. Watch Love HIGH Quality Definitons. Watch Remember Online on this page.

It’s Jessica Chastain’s next film after “Interstellar,” it’s Oscar Isaac’s most high- profile, meaty lead since “Inside Llewyn Davis,” and it’s director J. C. Chandor’s third film after the terrific, eclectic one- two punch of “Margin Call” and “All is Lost.” And there’s the absolutely fantastic- looking trailer (plus it’s great; read our review). But there’s one final factor that has us anticipating it so hotly —the film is the latest addition to the canon of New York Crime movies, a genre that is so distinctive and so deeply knotted into the very fabric of modern American cinema that it has given us maybe ten or twenty of its irrefutably anointed classics. New York City is a place that more than most is built on a self- created image, and that image has been exported far and wide via the movies, which is to say that there is probably no more cinematic city in the whole wide world. The city has been ceaselessly chronicled through the ages, from borough to borough, from skyscraper to curbside gutter, in all its grit, glory and glamorous anti- glamor. And crime is an indelible part of that image —we may be living in a post- Giuliani era in which it’s safe to use the subway at night and the most frightening thing that can happen to you in Brooklyn is an incorrectly spiced chai latte, but only the most unromantic cinephile can fail to have a faint tinge of nostalgia for the New York of vice and graft and grime, where lives might have been more brutal and shorter, but they played out against an immense backdrop of neon sleaze and broken dreams with jagged edges. But who among us hasn’t seen the touchpoints in this genre?

And what more is there to say about “The Godfather” trilogy, “Goodfellas,” “Taxi Driver,” “Mean Streets,” “Once Upon a Time in America,” “Serpico,” “Gangs of New York,” “The Taking of Pelham 1. Death Wish,” “Leon,” “The French Connection,” “Dog Day Afternoon,” “On the Waterfront,” “Midnight Cowboy” etc? It’s such a populous category that we decided to take a look instead at a few films you might not have seen or that don’t necessarily spring immediately to mind. Here then are just 2. New York City crime movies to get you in the mood for “A Most Violent Year” (a couple of them were even released in 1.

King of New York” (1. Martin Scorsese would be the undisputed Godfather of this list were we including the biggest films in the genre, but Abel Ferrara may well be the reigning feudal lord for this incarnation —his films are just as mired in the monumental grime of New York’s underworld but are just a bit  more under the radar. Here, we have confined ourselves to just two consecutive titles, ”King of New York” and “Bad Lieutenant” (see below).

The earlier film was in fact the first to get a free pass onto this list, as it’s something of a neglected classic featuring a towering, haunted Christopher Walken lead performance and a terrific supporting cast including Laurence Fishburne, Wesley Snipes, Steve Buscemi, Giancarlo Esposito and David Caruso. And it’s set against the backdrop of a perfectly corrupt and venal city, above whose sins and temptations Walken’s drug- kingpin- trying- to- do- right may try to rise, (physically, in his penthouse suite at the Plaza Hotel, as well as metaphorically) but which will always pull him back down.

In fact, Walken’s Frank White is motivated by a love for the city and a despair at what’s become of his childhood Lower East Side neighborhood, prompting him to turn would- be Robin Hood, albeit a peculiarly ruthless one. It’s gloriously grim, gritty stuff, as doom- laden as the best noir and as hard- boiled as any gangster classic, and in its depiction of White’s contradictory, protective but also predatory relationship toward the city that will devour even him in the end, it’s pretty much indispensable.

The Naked City” (1. Before Paris (“Rififi”), before London (“Night and The City”), there was New York City, “The Naked City.” Jules Dassin’s name often gets lost in the shuffle when dealing with the most influential film noir and crime directors, but he’s truly one of the pioneers of the genre. Especially when it comes to inextricably intertwining the picture’s story with its setting, as is perhaps most literally obvious with “The Naked City.” An unnamed narrator, who would at times comically adopt the role of tour guide (producer Mark Helligner), tells us right away that this is, among other things, a “story of a city.” Filmed entirely on location, the film takes on a unique and supremely effective semi- documented style to show us a few samples of the eight million New Yorkers going about their business. Then it zeroes in on a murder of a girl, and we follow Lieutenant Muldoon (scene- stealing Barry Fitzgerald) and his unit as they investigate and search for her killer, ending with a thrilling chase sequence. In order to get the most authentic New York vibe possible, Dassin went as far as to film in public with hidden cameras. But it’s the birds- eye- view aerial shots, a sunset under the Brooklyn Bridge and a lit- up Manhattan at night that truly gives the city (indeed, the picture itself) its pulse “that never stops beating.” It went on to inspire the super popular TV show of the same name that ran from 1.

The Pope Of Greenwich Village” (1. This one seriously gets a bum rap. The Pope of Greenwich Village” is a nostalgic trip in the time machine to ’8. New York through the perspective of petty thugs in Little Italy. Watch Online Watch Empire Of The Sun Full Movie Online Film. Mickey Rourke in the prime of his career plays Charlie, a guy “one inch away from being a good person” as his ballerina girlfriend Diane (Daryl Hannah) tells him. He’s your typically hot- tempered Italian who loves to blurt out a “capisce?” at the end of his sentences and doesn’t mind giving the wall a what- for every time his girlfriend or his no- good idiotic cousin Paulie (Eric Roberts in a ‘fro) put him in a bind.

Charlie and Paulie lose their jobs as waiters and get in deep with the local mafia boss Bed Bug Eddie (the inestimable Burt Young) who was about to pay off a corrupt cop until the two get in his way. Director Stuart Rosenberg’s legacy (apart from directing 1. The Naked City” TV series, see above) shines brightest with “Cool Hand Luke” and “Brubaker,” but there’s something warm and fond sustained in ‘Pope’ even after all these years.

By no means a perfect film (it has an especially imperfect ending), it’s full of charm, surprising romance, a fantastic Sinatra- inspired soundtrack, and features a cameo appearance by Geraldine Page that is so superb it nabbed her an Oscar nomination for about two minutes of screen time. Cry of the City” (1. A cracking film noir from noir master Robert Siodmak, who also gave us the classic Burt Lancaster/Ava Gardner noir “The Killers,” “Cry of the City” may be a notch down from that high watermark, but only a very small notch. Pacy, seamy and stupendously well- shot (with the kind of framing and chiaruscuro shading that noir lends itself to so well), the film follows a small- time hood called Rome (Richard Conte, here a ringer for Brit character actor Danny Webb) pursued doggedly by Candella (Victor Mature), a detective who grew up in the same rough neighborhood.

It really has it all: murderous, emasculating masseuses; adoring younger brothers who need to be turned away from the lure of crime; back street abortionists; moral ambiguity (Rome is this time being pursued for a crime of which he is innocent and the parallels between good guy and bad guy are writ large, “Heat”- style). And it also has some deliciously seedy texture, courtesy of its on- location New York scenes, all rain- slicked sidewalks, classic cars, pillbox hats and reflective neon signage, culminating in a poetic finale that plays out on the stoop of, what else, the downtown church where the men have their final, doomy encounter.