This afternoon, the Fox Movie Channel ran the trailer for The Panic in Needle Park. I was intrigued, and when the movie followed (uncut--accept nothing else) I watched. I am still stunned. This livid, documentary-style look at a faction of society that most people prefer to ignore of simply lock up is a brutal and powerful piece of cinema.
It is a film devoid of simple black and white categorizations. Bobby and Helen, deeply in love and deeply addicted to smack, are not bad people; rather they are people in a very bad situation--screwed up, screwed over, strung out, and doing whatever they can to survive. We watch as they go from "just chipping" to crippling, $80-a-day dependency. They steal, deal, hook, and shoot the profits into a scarred vein. A tone of bleak, tragic inevitability infuses their lives and the film. We care about them, but all we can do is watch; there are no offers of help, no outstretched hands. In an extremely telling moment, Helen says she wants to move out of Needle Park, to which Bobby simply responds, "It's where I live."
Panic has such a natural, improvisational feel that those existing on a diet of super-glossy cash-cow cinema may be put off. It is only slightly more polished than Andy Warhol's Trash, which it resembles by turns--from the camera that loses focus and trembles ever so slightly to the close-ups of needles sliding into veins. The gritty city is perfectly captured, with a tremendous atmosphere of desperation and misfortune. As Bobby, Al Pacino is marvelous (as usual), but I was really impressed by Kitty Winn in the role of Helen. I'd only seen her in The Exorcist, where she was mostly relegated to the background. Here, her portrayal is gut-wrenching, courageous, and unforgettable. I can say without a doubt, Needle Park is a must-see. It may not be pretty, but it's life.
It is a film devoid of simple black and white categorizations. Bobby and Helen, deeply in love and deeply addicted to smack, are not bad people; rather they are people in a very bad situation--screwed up, screwed over, strung out, and doing whatever they can to survive. We watch as they go from "just chipping" to crippling, $80-a-day dependency. They steal, deal, hook, and shoot the profits into a scarred vein. A tone of bleak, tragic inevitability infuses their lives and the film. We care about them, but all we can do is watch; there are no offers of help, no outstretched hands. In an extremely telling moment, Helen says she wants to move out of Needle Park, to which Bobby simply responds, "It's where I live."
Panic has such a natural, improvisational feel that those existing on a diet of super-glossy cash-cow cinema may be put off. It is only slightly more polished than Andy Warhol's Trash, which it resembles by turns--from the camera that loses focus and trembles ever so slightly to the close-ups of needles sliding into veins. The gritty city is perfectly captured, with a tremendous atmosphere of desperation and misfortune. As Bobby, Al Pacino is marvelous (as usual), but I was really impressed by Kitty Winn in the role of Helen. I'd only seen her in The Exorcist, where she was mostly relegated to the background. Here, her portrayal is gut-wrenching, courageous, and unforgettable. I can say without a doubt, Needle Park is a must-see. It may not be pretty, but it's life.