One of the greatest NY films ever made is by far The Pope of Greenwich Village. It’s got everything: ethnicity, loyalty, treachery, passion, triumph, defeat, comedy, the whole enchilada.
Mickey Rourke, Eric Roberts, Daryl Hannah, Geraldine Page, Kenneth McMillan and Burt Young have dynamic chemistry throughout the film’s 121-minute running time. Simply superb acting all around. Amazing the film hasn’t garnered more attention and accolades.
Eric Roberts is Paulie, the guy we’ve all known somewhere who, despite our better judgment, is simply that likable character we keep giving second chances to. He panders to Rourke’s Charlie, the hero who, in spite of knowing he’d be better off alone, can’t ignore his feelings of empathy for his knucklehead cousin. I won’t spoil it by revealing any more details than that, but suffice it to say it’s a story of a struggle that’s as old as the hills though in a very balanced way between the hardcore consequences of life, taking risks and the comedy that comes along with every tragedy, all set to a great soundtrack.
The film is also a very picturesque portrait of a city that I will never miss but am thankful for the memories of. This film, though set in the early-mid 80’s, is representative of those memories in a grimy yet attractive way that only that city can be.
Pollee and I watched the film again last night and have been bantering on with “That twat robbed ya?”, “it’s all in the gene”, “Dressed up like a fa%^ot on Fire Island”, “He’s a real pro” and countless other gems from this, arguably one of the most overlooked films of all time, praised here and in so many other places.
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