{"id":17085,"date":"2021-09-03T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-09-03T16:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/?p=17085"},"modified":"2021-09-03T12:47:45","modified_gmt":"2021-09-03T19:47:45","slug":"classic-corner-little-murders","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/classic-corner-little-murders\/","title":{"rendered":"Classic Corner: Little Murders<\/i>"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

In the opening sequence of Alan Arkin\u2019s Little Murders<\/em>, Patsy Newquist (Marcia Rodd) is alarmed \u2013 well, annoyed \u2013 by the chattering and yelping and cursing coming in through the window of her New York apartment. A man is being attacked on the street down below, so she calls 911. She gets a busy signal. She calls back again, and is put on hold. She finally gives up and goes down to rescue the victim, Alfred (Elliot Gould), who is on the ground being beaten. They turn to her; he gets up and calmly walks away. This is New York, lady. Out here, you\u2019re on your own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Little Murders<\/em> \u2013 one of only two feature films directed by Arkin \u2013 isn\u2019t the easiest movie to watch these days, unavailable for digital rental, out of print on DVD, only available on Blu-ray overseas. That\u2019s part of why its inclusion<\/a> in the Criterion Channel\u2019s spectacular new, 63-film \u201cNew York Stories\u201d series<\/a> is such a big deal. But it\u2019s also a vital, if not widely acknowledged, part of the New York City film canon of the era. When we think of New York movies of the \u201870s, we think of grimy portraits like The Panic in Needle Park, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, Taxi Driver, <\/em>and Midnight Cowboy<\/em>. But New York comedies weren\u2019t exactly sunny either: movies like Where\u2019s Poppa, The Out-of-Towners, <\/em>and The Prisoner of Second Avenue<\/em> made light, with varying success, of Fun City phenomena like muggings, garbage strikes, and the dangers of Central Park.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But none of the dark comedies of the time were as dark as Little Murders<\/em>. (And you can take that literally, as it was shot by Gordon Willis.) It stakes its claim in that opening scene, when Alfred, without thinking twice, abandons the woman who\u2019s saving him – and just to underline it, that\u2019s when they put up the writing credit of Jules Feiffer, the Bronx-born, Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist, playwright (Little Murders<\/em> was a play first), and misanthrope (his other 1971 release was the equally cheery Carnal Knowledge<\/a><\/em>). And it\u2019s not just that he walks away from her; when she confronts him about it  (\u201cPeople help each other all the time! Isn\u2019t that what life is all about?\u201d), he gets defensive. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t have done that!\u201d he insists. \u201cThey were getting tired, you got them mad!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of course, this being a Jules Feiffer script, they fall in love. (Again, the man wrote Carnal Knowledge<\/em>). It\u2019s a decidedly nervous romance, between two wildly mismatched people; whenever she says she loves him, he replies, \u201cI don\u2019t know what love is.\u201d He is more than a little neurotic, and she\u2019s still somehow optimistic; she runs down the daily barrage of dangers, insults, and harassment of life in Gotham for an attractive young woman, asks, \u201cIsn\u2019t that enough to wipe the smile off anybody\u2019s face?\u201d But she still smiles, solves problems, and hopes for the best.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

This is the essential conflict at the heart of Little Murders<\/em>: whether one faces the parade of bullshit that is contemporary life and hopes for the best, or expects the worst. Patsy wants Alfred to share her belief that there are \u201csome things worth reacting to, some things worth feeling!\u201d But Alfred prides himself on feeling nothing, about anything, because that\u2019s what it takes to survive \u2013 in this life in general, but especially<\/em> in a hellhole like New York City, circa 1971.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And make no mistake, it\u2019s a hellhole. Characters mention the muggings, stabbings, assaults, and worse that they dodge every day. At some point, snipers just start shooting in through the windows, and no one even flinches. Patsy\u2019s mother tells Alfred about her older brother, who survived tours in Korea and Vietnam, only to be \u201cshot down in his tracks at the corner of 97th<\/sup> Street and Amsterdam Avenue.\u201d Scenes are punctured by periodic black- and brown-outs, but the characters barely acknowledge them; they\u2019re handled casually, as a fact of life. At one point, Alfred is telling a deeply personal story, and a crash erupts outside in the middle of it. He carries on talking, and his audience carry on listening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is all played (and lands) as comedy, much of it broad. But there are serious moments, here and there, long and searching monologues about paranoia and fear that are acted and shot like drama. And without those breaks, the film\u2019s boldest (and cruelest) narrative turn, which I\u2019ll not reveal here, wouldn\u2019t land at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it does. Little Murders<\/em> is one of the bleakest comedies you\u2019ll ever see, a story about broken people in a broken city, and the genuine pointlessness of even trying to pretend otherwise. In its closing scene, its characters finally find happiness by opening up the windows, which they\u2019ve shuttered with steel to protect themselves from the barrage of sniper fire, and they start shooting back. It plays like a happy ending. \"\"\/<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLittle Murders\u201d is currently streaming<\/a> in the Criterion Channel\u2019s \u201cNew York Stories\u201d series<\/a><\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n