Samuel Fuller’s Pickup
on South Street opens with a scene that is downright dazzling, even by
today’s standards. It takes place on a crowded New York City subway. As people
shift about, a man and woman eventually end up face to face.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย They begin to make goo-goo eyes at each other, but the
flirtation is merely a distraction for the man to lift the woman’s wallet as he
expertly times the stopping of the subway with the closing of her purse. Two
other subway riders witness the crime and give futile chase; the woman departs,
eventually realizing that she’s been had.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย That brief scene, which doesn’t take more than four or
five minutes, is enough to suck viewers into this 1953 classic. The man is Skip
McCoy (Richard Widmark), a seemingly fearless petty thief who has just
completed his third prison stint. He takes his plunder back to his home, a
dilapidated bait-and-tackle shack on the river (complete with gangplank
entrance), and is shocked to discover that the wallet contains a strip of
microfilm.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Skip’s subway mark was Candy (Jean Peters), a perky woman
who was supposed to deliver the film to a contact of her extremely nervous (and
extremely abusive) boyfriend Joey (Richard Kiley). What she doesn’t know is
that Joey is a dirty Commie bastard and that the film contained “a patent for a
new chemical formula,” which, best I can tell, is secret code for “something
that will help the Ruskies win the Cold War.” When Candy tells Joey the film
has been swiped, he demands she recover it immediately.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Meanwhile, the local police (tipped off by the two feds
who witnessed the pick pocketing) start hounding Skip, who suddenly realizes he
might have stumbled upon something very valuable. His beliefs are confirmed
when he returns to his shack one night to find it being ransacked by an
intruder. The darkness prevents him from seeing the prowler is Candy, so Skip
goes in swinging, knocks her out cold with a fierce blow to the jaw, and
revives her by emptying a bottle of beer on her head. And that’s before they
start making out. (Foreplay just ain’t what it used to be, kids.)
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The rest of the fairly succinct film follows Skip, Candy,
the fuzz, Joey and his Commie pals as they jockey for possession of the
valuable strip of film. Most of the movie’s characters turn to a lowlife
stoolie (an unforgettable Thelma Ritter) for what amounts to the exact same
information. Ritter’s performance is the glue that holds Pickup together, and she was rightfully nominated for a Best
Supporting Actress award that year (she lost to From Here to Eternity‘s Donna Reed; Ritter went 0-for-6 in that
category between 1951 and 1963).
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Equally impressive is Fuller’s direction, which only
slips when he portrays Joey as a perpetually sweaty nudnik. (If they were
always that soggy, the Reds would have been really easy to finger, and
potential Commies would include Richard Nixon and David Dinkins).
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย His camera placement is impeccable, most notably in the
scene near the end that is shot through the bars of Candy’s headboard, making
Skip look like he’s back in the clink. Listen for the barely noticeable alarm when
Candy discovers her wallet is missing, and see if you can count the number of
times Fuller’s script (based on a Dwight Taylor story) makes reference to
Candy’s line of work.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Pickup will
screen this Saturday night at the Dryden Theatre following an introduction by
the 87-year-old Widmark, who will accept the title of George Eastman Honorary
Scholar, discuss his career, and stick around and answer your questions after
the film, too. (Widmark, whose Oscar-nominated turn in 1947’s Kiss of Death is playing at the Dryden
on Friday night, is Pickup‘s only
living cast member.)
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Tickets for Saturday’s special event are $10 ($8 for
members and students) and can be purchased at the Museum’s admission desk. For
more information, call 271-3361.
The Next Big Thing also features a NYC subway pickpocket, only this
time there aren’t any FBI agents or Cold War maguffins to be found. Instead, we
meet a resourceful grifter named Deech Scumble (Jamie Harris, Dinner Rush) who is conning fares by
telling people he’s collecting money to buy sandwiches for the homeless.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย When he
drops his Styrofoam cooler, which is supposed to be full of tuna, bologna and
PB&J, the riders are shocked to see their wallets and other valuable
personal effects spilling out onto the floor of the train.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Meanwhile, one of Scumble’s marks, a man named Gus Bishop
(Chris Eigeman, a regular in Whit Stillman films), hustles to make a meeting
with an influential art gallery owner (Farley Granger). Gus is a struggling
artist who has been rejected by every other Manhattan gallery, and this attempt
to have his work exhibited elicits the same results. To make matters worse, Gus
returns home to find his apartment has been burgled. Then his girlfriend (Marin
Hinkle) dumps him because the rest of her friends are married and buying homes
in the Hamptons.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Though Gus doesn’t know it, something exciting is about
to happen to his career. When Scumble ransacked his apartment, he took one of
Gus’s paintings. And when Scumble can’t come up with rent money, he gives the
painting to his landlord and makes up a heartbreaking story about the troubled
artist.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Not only does the landlord bite, he sells it to a dealer,
who talks it up to an influential collector, who in turn spends $10,000 on the
piece. Each time the painting changes hands, the fictional legend of the artist
(Geoffrey Buonardi, to match Gus’s initials in the bottom right corner) grows.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Before you know it, Geoffrey Buonardi becomes the toast
of the New York art world, leading Scumble to contact Gus, explain the situation,
and strike up a unique business arrangement in which he’ll become the artist’s
manager so long as he keeps pumping out paintings and stays completely
anonymous (this is funny because Scumble knows nothing about art and thinks
Picasso cut his ear off).
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย In a matter of days, Gus’s paintings are fetching
millions of dollars.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย There are two women after the non-existent Geoffrey
Buonardi, too: a desperate art groupie, Florence Rubin (Janet Zarish) and a
critic, Kate Crowley (Connie Britton), who, along with every other art snob in
the film, gushes over the Gus/Geoffrey pieces, saying ridiculous things like,
“He’s way past all the post-modern rhetoric.”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Even though nobody knows who this artist is, he lands in
the spotlight of the important biennial show at the Whitley Museum (filling in
for New York’s Whitney).
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย If you haven’t figured it out already, Thing is a satire of the art community.
Gus can’t get anyone to look at his paintings because he’s not oppressed or
strung out — he’s just a middle-class white guy from New Brunswick, New
Jersey. Similar situations have been explored recently in John Waters’ much
better film, Pecker, and there was
even an interesting subplot in last season’s Dark Angel.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Sadly, the send-up here is relatively weak. I think the
romantic comedy angle might have been better if it were downplayed in favor of
more biting satire. Then again, I’m not sure that would have done enough to
fill out Thing‘s skeletal concept.
Interested in raw, unedited
movie ramblings from Jon? Visit his site, Planet Sick-Boy www.sick-boy.com, or
listen to him on WBER’s Friday Morning Show.
This article appears in Aug 21-27, 2002.
