Σταυροδρόμια της Ψυχής

Karsten4.5

The darkest I’ve seen Scorsese go. The way at which the edit goes about capturing exhaustion is pretty genius, staying chaotic and loud for brief periods of time but allowing for that come down to feel just as strong. The trip sequence is unreal. While it’s undoubtedly unfortunate this is as under-appreciated as it is, it’s not the most accessible of Scorsese’s work so I completely understand. Everything about this is hopeless and I’m sad. Imagine going from this to Gangs of New York LOL

Josh Lewis5.0

“No one asked you to suffer. That was your idea.”Our lady of perpetual existential misery. Another one of Paul Schrader’s lonely, suffering, guilty men seeking spiritual redemption on the grimy, bloody Catholic streets of Scorsese’s New York (a la Taxi Driver) and given a jolt of anxious, manic energy by the specificity of Joe Connelly's autobiographical experiences within the milieu of the nocturnal paramedics of Hell's Kitchen addicted to the high of saving life but struggling to bear witness to all the ugly misery and death. Cage is practically a human-sized bag under an eye, perpetually strung out and driving himself into an expressively paranoid, purgatorial madness alongside a collection of hilarious character actor turns (by Goodman, Rhames, and Sizemore who are all amazing) simply trying to cope with the intensely upsetting nature of their profession. Richardson’s choice to shoot this like a feverish, hallucinatory and impressionistic junkie-horror film somewhere at the intersection of After Hours, JFK and Bad Lieutenant-era Ferrara still stands out as one of the more inspired in a catalog of gorgeously made masterpieces. Just a constant sea of trancelike whip pans, blown-out glowing lights, sudden crane moves, camera spins + speed/lens changes and various ghostly reflective surfaces on bleached film that suggest a haunting, punishing parade of street noise and despair on the morbid, adrenaline-rush path towards a strange form of dreamlike grace and beauty; the wordless scene of a soon-to-be-divorced Cage and Arquette sharing that smiling ride in the back of the ambulance together to "These Are Days" by 10,000 Maniacs (what a soundtrack too!) or the firework sparks coming out of that gruesome impaling that stretches out into the beautiful NYC skyline! Eventually building to a cathartic hallucinatory forgiveness conclusion where Cage's tormented and self-martyred paramedic realizes that tangible practices or acts of faith (like literally saving a life) are great and all, but sometimes real divinity can also be found in the simplest expressions of compassion. The blinding angelic morning sunlight on Arquette holding him while he finally sleeps after that overwhelmingly hellish and hysterical all-night insomnia limbo we just experienced with him is so beautiful. It’s also sort of the same Pickpocket ending as 10 other Schrader movies and it doesn’t matter, it always hits. Still can’t believe he called her Mary though.Full discussion on ep 358 of my podcast SLEAZOIDS.

demi adejuyigbe

The way this movie looks- wow!! The camera movement is so delightfully energetic. I think that whip/dolly combo Scorsese and PTA love so much is one of my favorite types of shots. And the use of light here!!!! Phenomenal!!! Every scene is somewhere between a surgical examination and a fantasy. So glimmering, like everyone is either stepping into or out of heaven. Guarantee every alt-rock music video pitch through the early 2000s had at least four shots from this movie in it.Couldn’t have cast a better lead than Nic Cage. His face is perfectly haunted, and the entire time you’re waiting for him to go nuts, it only feels miserable when he finally does. Love the depiction of medical emergency workers as people and not “heroes:” some are cruel, some are annoyed, many are broken. Discontent and replaceable as the least respected minimum wage workers, with the added burden of death. Sometimes that burden lands on a Ving Rhames (brilliant, genius, hilarious, underrated comedy king) sometimes it lands on a Tom Sizemore (real piece of shit, just awful, what your mom means when she says “we have Bradley Cooper at home”)