Cult Cinema: New York, New York (1977) - Reviewed

Images courtesy of MGM

After the heights reached by his 1976 Palme d’Or winner Taxi Driver, writer-director Martin Scorsese dove into something far less violent and subversive but ultimately far more destructive to himself and his career with his 1977 musical misfire New York, New York from which the hit Frank Sinatra song originated.  A PG rated period piece (a far cry from Taxi Driver’s near X) and musical tribute to his home town of New York City featuring Robert De Niro as a smooth talking saxophonist who woos a small-time singer played by Liza Minnelli into forming a musical jazz act, the film is largely remembered for being contributory to a dramatic cocaine binge which landed it’s director in rehab followed by the making of one of his greatest films Raging Bull three years later.  

Akin to, say, Francis Ford Coppola’s One from the Heart or Herbert Ross’ Pennies from Heaven, the film is at once a piece of escapist excess harkening back to the Golden Age of Hollywood Musicals while also trying to be a realistic character study.  It never really engages fully which Scorsese later blamed on being ‘drugged out’ but what’s here nevertheless is adorned with striking audiovisuals and arresting set pieces.
 
Amid Victory over Japan Day in 1945 circa New York City’s nightclubs and big bands, saxophonist Jimmy Doyle (Robert De Niro in a character somewhere between Jake La Motta and Rupert Pupkin) sweet talks his way into relations with Francine Evans (Liza Minnelli) who rebuffs the undeterred musician at every turn.  After a chance success with a recording of the song You Brought a New Kind of Love to Me, the duo is offered a job as a traveling sing-song act.  


However, on the rise to their success, Jimmy becomes increasingly erratic in behavior with jealousy, paranoia, possession and physical altercations either with Francine or anyone who bats an eye at her.  At one point his actions nearly causes Francine to miscarry.  To call their relationship combustible if not dysfunctional is putting it mildly and in a story arc predating La La Land by decades, the two begin to grow apart as their disparate career paths take hold.
 
Characterized largely by the opening and closing theme track by John Kander and Fred Ebb whose song became a megahit, legendary West Side Story and The Sound of Music production designer Boris Leven’s sumptuous sets and luminous radiant cinematography by Five Easy Pieces and Ghostbusters cameraman László Kovács, New York, New York is a sensory feast that feels lightweight contextually.  Going for an intentionally saturated and grainy Technicolor aesthete which looks a bit like being projected on a thick carpet, it looks fabulous and even plays around with intentional artifice in some sequences.  Still, it rings somewhat hollow compared to what Scorsese would do before and especially after this film.  


While predating the character of Jake La Motta which De Niro’s Jimmy Doyle has a lot in common with, the film never really probes Doyle’s dysfunction and instead serves up a number of visual excesses that are indeed lush and lovely to look at but only underscore the behind-the-scenes chaos that ensued on the set.  Liza Minnelli however, which Scorsese had an affair with mid-production, is a joy to watch in her element, channeling her mother Judy’s presence and voice while finding her own footing in Scorsese’s largely improvised saga.  As a period piece every dollar is on the screen but again one gets the impression watching this supposedly carefree lark that ballooning production costs and the director’s own addictions helped tilt the thing off the rails somewhat.

 
Originally released in 1977 at a running time of 155 minutes, the critical and commercial failure of the film resulted in United Artists the distributor trimming the length down to 136 minutes for international circuits.  However, in 1981, the film was re-released again with a newly filmed sequence known as Happy Endings an elongated musical montage showing off Liza Minnelli’s stage and screen talents while further exemplifying the distance that amassed between herself and her former stage partner.  It’s a twelve-minute clamshell of sensory excess which upon restoration garnered stronger responses from critics though ultimately still a financial loss which drove Scorsese into a depression and eventually rehab.  


On its own New York, New York serves as a curiosity in the director’s oeuvre as something of an outlier, that one time he tried to marry documentary realism to Busby Berkeley while under a terrible influence.  Looking at it now, he couldn’t have made Raging Bull without this which in and of itself was something of a rising again after a hard fall.  Scorsese never had a failure of this magnitude before or since but it absolutely taught him everything he needed to make one of his very best and most celebrated films.

--Andrew Kotwicki