Martin Scorsese's volatile movie about reaching adulthood in New York's "Little Italy" is made up of a fistful of tough, partial truths, which are repeated frequently and adamantly to create the impression of the whole truth. His main idea of how to keep the excitement at a fever-pitch is to have the camera periodically chase around the room after several scrambling bodies. His other idea is to feed dimes into a juke box of goldie-oldies and let the driving, enveloping music play against his agitated images. The visual style is a vigorous, indecisive hodgepodge: amateurish experimentation on the one hand, and auteurist emulation on the other. Robert De Niro, Harvey Keitel. (1973) — Duncan Shepherd
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