Mean Streets: “You guys better enjoy yourselves.”
If careers in filmmaking were sports, Martin Scorsese would be a marathon runner. Spanning forty-two years – and with no sign of stopping yet (ultra-marathon?) – Scorsese’s directorial catalogue is almost unparalleled in its range, reputation and achievements. But whereas there had been a few warm ups in the late 60s and early 70s, it wasn’t until Mean Streets that the real starting gun went off; Scorsese’s first feature length film – and his breakthrough –Mean Streets began properly showcasing the signature Scorsese style of varying frame speeds, thematic colour drenching, a contrasting pop music soundtrack – and of course, the partnership with Robert De Niro that would come to define so much of both their careers.
But the real significance of Mean Streets actually lies in something else. The setting – the gritty, murky world of New York City’s Little Italy – and the nature of the story itself are in fact semi-autobiographical; Scorsese himself grew up in this environment, with the same devoutly Catholic background as his central character Charlie (here a good-natured Harvey Keitel) and the same exposure to the underhand dealings and the continual struggle between sin and decency. And whereas Scorsese’s intention in Mean Streets was to make a film that reflected his own experiences, part of this meant also drawing out other vital aspects of this life that were sometimes overlooked – the ideas of family, friendship and loyalty. These sub-themes are subtle, but the moments in which they appear have a particularly noticeable charm.
Having attempted to scam two teenagers out of $40, Michael (Richard Romanus) finds that actually, he himself has been left with only $20 – an amount that he, Charlie and Tony (David Proval) decide should just be spent at the movies. The scene cuts to the three of them in the cinema, Michael grumbling about them costing him a lot of money, while Tony and Charlie descend into helpless giggles at the sound of an off screen argument about someone’s wandering hands. The overall picture is of a group of grown men trying to be quiet in a cinema while behaving like total juveniles.
Taken out of context this brief scene might seem out of place, especially alongside the film’s darker themes that have been evident from the beginning – but it has a sort of simple innocence that exactly highlights Scorsese’s desire to show the friendship, the affection and the other ordinary things in life that were so often the key to surviving the difficult and dangerous underworld of New York City.
