Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
There’s an old-school, understated charm to writer-director Noah Segan’s “The Only Living Pickpocket in New York,” a modest little crime caper that seems perfectly content operating at its own leisurely pace. A smooth, jazzy score permeates the proceedings, lending the film a nostalgic quality reminiscent of the Hollywood classics of yesteryear, while Segan’s affection for New York City is evident in the way he captures its neighborhoods, subway platforms and the assortment of characters who inhabit them. It’s as much a love letter to the city as it is to a disappearing way of life, with John Turturro front and center in a rare leading role that gives the renowned character actor an opportunity to remind us just how good he can be. If only the movie surrounding him had a little more juice.
Turturro plays Harry, one of the last remaining members of an old guard of pickpockets who has spent decades perfecting his craft and adhering to a particular code of conduct. The world around him has changed considerably, though Harry has made little effort to change with it. He still knows how to spot an unsuspecting mark, work a crowded subway car and disappear before anyone realizes their wallet is missing. He also knows the other players operating in his territory, and even tries to train an inexperienced newcomer in the finer points of the profession. It’s hardly a glamorous existence, but Harry has settled into a routine that provides just enough to keep him afloat while caring for his disabled wife, Rosie, who is unable to move or speak.
Of course, even a seasoned professional can make a mistake, and Harry’s comes when he lifts a wallet and bag belonging to an obnoxious, frat-boy type who turns out to be considerably more connected than his appearance suggests. Harry brings his haul to his usual fence, Ben (Steve Buscemi, another beloved character actor who fits comfortably into Segan’s world), who directs him to a contact in Chinatown to unload an SD card recovered from the bag. Unfortunately, the card contains something valuable enough to attract the attention of its owner, Dylan (Will Price), an Ivy League-educated grandson of a powerful crime family. By the time Harry realizes what he’s gotten himself into and attempts to retrieve the card, it has gone missing, sending him scrambling across the city and calling upon every connection in his orbit, including a police detective played by Giancarlo Esposito.
At a brisk 88 minutes, “The Only Living Pickpocket in New York” doesn’t overstay its welcome, though there’s a curious lack of urgency to a story that increasingly depends on the threat of what might happen if Harry fails to recover the card. The trouble isn’t necessarily the simplicity of Segan’s screenplay, which is part of the film’s appeal, but that the danger never feels particularly consequential. Price, unfortunately, is a significant part of that problem. As an entitled Gen Z criminal with powerful family connections, Dylan should represent a younger, more reckless breed of trouble that Harry’s old-fashioned instincts aren’t necessarily equipped to handle. There’s an interesting generational conflict buried somewhere in that dynamic, but Price never quite musters the menace or authority necessary to make the character convincing. He comes across more like a petulant rich kid throwing a tantrum than someone capable of making Harry’s life genuinely miserable.
Consequently, the film’s back half struggles to build much momentum despite the increasingly precarious circumstances Harry finds himself navigating. Segan has the ingredients for a more compelling thriller, particularly in the contrast between a veteran criminal who operates according to an established code and a younger generation with little regard for it, but doesn’t do enough to exploit that friction. The threat remains largely theoretical, leaving Turturro to supply much of the tension through Harry’s growing desperation. There’s nothing inherently wrong with a low-key crime story, especially one that places character ahead of spectacle, but even the most modest caper needs a little spark to keep its wheels turning.
Fortunately, Turturro is more than capable of carrying the picture through its shortcomings. There’s a quiet warmth and melancholy to his performance that makes Harry an unexpectedly endearing figure, even as he spends his days stealing from unsuspecting strangers. Turturro understands the contradictions of a man who takes genuine pride in his profession while recognizing that the world has increasingly little use for someone like him. Harry knows the streets, the people and the rules that have governed his life for decades, but there’s also a growing awareness that those instincts might not be enough anymore. His devotion to Rosie adds another layer to that realization, suggesting that beneath his professional pride is a man simply trying to hold on to the few things he has left.
It’s a tender, wonderfully lived-in performance from an actor who has spent so much of his career enriching other people’s movies from the sidelines. Segan wisely gives him room to breathe, allowing the smallest gestures and expressions to convey the weariness of someone who has seen his city, and his place within it, gradually change. In those moments, “The Only Living Pickpocket in New York” is far more effective as a portrait of an aging man confronting his own obsolescence than as the crime thriller it occasionally aspires to be.
There’s enough affection for these characters and their surroundings to make the experience worthwhile, even if the narrative could have benefited from a more formidable adversary and a stronger sense of consequence. Segan has made an agreeable, occasionally touching little movie that understands the appeal of its leading man better than it understands the mechanics of its own caper. Still, it’s refreshing to see Turturro given the spotlight, and he rewards that confidence with a performance that has considerably more soul than the material surrounding him. The movie could have used a little more spark around the edges, but Turturro makes a persuasive case for sticking around until the end.
THE ONLY LIVING PICKPOCKET IN NEW YORK opens nationwide Friday, October 30.