John Turturro has a storied career that stretches across 45 years, and boasts unforgettable performances in iconic films like Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing and the Coen Bros' The Big Lebowski and O Brother, Where Art Thou? More recently, he awed streaming audiences with his bittersweet romance as Irving Bailiff in Apple TV+'s Severance, for which he's earned two Primetime Emmy nominations.
Across more than 100 films and television series, Turturro has played clowns and villains, lovers and bowlers. But in his latest, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York, this heralded character actor and celebrated New York City native gets the role that he was born to play.
Writer/director Noah Segan entrusts Turturro with the leading man role in a crime thriller that evokes 1970s classics like Taxi Driver, The French Connection, and The Taking of Pelham One Two Three — movies that predate Turturro's screen career. And yet, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York doesn't feel like a throwback. Instead, this big-hearted and hard-nosed thriller bridges the gap between past and present with a modern awareness of how things change, even for a classic New York character.
The Only Living Pickpocket in New York celebrates its city with every frame.
It's a cliché to call a movie a love letter to New York. The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is more of a confession of affection scribbled on the back of a way-too-long CVS receipt. It's passionate and a bit grimy, just like the city itself.
Turturro stars as Harry Lehman, an aging Bronx resident who's been a career criminal specializing in pickpocketing for decades. This day begins as any other, lifting a wallet from a finance bro on the subway. But times have changed. The city has moved away from paper money and toward Apple Pay and cryptocurrency. So, it's harder than ever for Harry to provide for his paralyzed wife, Rosie (Karina Arroyave). So, it seems like a boon when he successfully boosts the wallet of a smug 20-something named Dylan (Will Price). But while Harry is fencing the goods to his pawnbroker buddy Ben (a pitch-perfect Steve Buscemi), he learns this mark is practically made. Okay, so he's more of a nepobaby-gangster than a goodfella. But this is still bad news.
Harry's got to hustle to get back what he sold, or else Dylan and his posse of puffed-up Gen Z goons will kill Rosie. In this quest, Harry rides the train from the Bronx to Chinatown, to Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn, and up into cozy Queens, where big houses and yards shake up the presumed urban landscape. (Sorry, Staten Island, no time for you!)
In each place, Harry collides with a quintessentially New York figure, be it a no-nonsense neighbor (Echaka Agba), a shop owner (Kelvin Han Yee) more focused on his TV than a pesky customer, a wise-cracking detective (Giancarlo Esposito), a finger-wagging grannie (Lori Tan Chinn), or a slick-fingered could-be protégé (Mark Cayne). Like in classic '70s New York City cinema, each of these folks adds a new texture to this portrait of this messy and magical city. The cinematography by Sam Levy showcases this setting with a understated wonder B-roll of rumbling subways and bustling streets reflects Harry's never-say-die energy, as he strides out of pawn shops, police precincts, and community centers with an easy confidence. Before he dashes off, Levy's camera will zoom in, catching him as if he were a native animal on the run. Or else, a simple pan as Harry pauses to think reflects the big, urban world around him that won't stop for a moment.
This is not the romantic landscape of Manhattan showcased in countless rom-coms. The only view of the skyline or even NYC's rivers in this film is tinged with a sinister tone, as Harry and his detective friend recall an old thief whose head was found "bobbing in the Hudson!" The Only Living Pickpocket in New York instead captures a city that is both repulsive and beautiful, heartbreaking and inspiring. Segan even kicks off with a gut-punch of an opener, playing LCD Soundsystem's "New York I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down" at such an intensity that you can't escape the raw vulnerability in its lyrics or the trembling voice of James Murphy.
Before the title card hits, Segan shows he understands this city like a New Yorker. This is a place that will build you up and knock you down, over and over. And somehow — for those of us who truly love it — it feels like a privilege every time you get back up to try again.
John Turturro is perfection in The Only Living Pickpocket in New York.
This is a story of a man who's lived past his prime. A brassy score of trumpets and plinking piano puts Harry Lehman in the space of Travis Bickle, Popeye Doyle, or Transit Police Lt. Zachary Garber. But Segan's film willfully lacks the intensity of these reference points. That's because the Fear City days are behind New York, and Harry's hard edge has softened over the years of caring for his wife.
Harry, Rosie, Ben, and even Detective Warren are relics of a "bad days" era that they miss, because the days were rough, but the wild nights still make them smile. Now, kids half their age are talking about how the only worthwhile terrain for theft is through computers. But Harry doesn't even have a cell phone. A friendly stranger marvels when he knows a phone number "by heart." A crypto-bro chides him for not understanding he's part of "planned obsolescence." Over and over, the youth of this city are telling Harry that is time is over. There's a quiet resignation in his response, but even that doesn't mean he'll go down without a fight.
Turturro, who has famously seethed, snarled, and caterwauled to dramatic and comedic effect, plays closer to the vest here. When not lifting wallets, his long, agile fingers hide in the pockets of his tweed overcoat, its salt-and-pepper herringbone mirroring the color of his silvered, curly hair. Harry strives to not stand out, all the better to ply his craft. But he is coolly dashing. And in that, he has a facade of composure. But cuddled next to his wife, his passion burns. For her, he will coo and dance, showing that this old man still has moves. In front of old friends, he is gruff but caring. To their grandchildren, he is warm and paternal. And when confronted by mercurial thugs, he is alert and patient. Turturro offers a phenomenally nuanced performance that subtly speaks to what it takes to survive decades in this city.
When the Knicks won the NBA Championship this year, Turturro went viral for a dance he did at the celebration parade, candidly caught on camera. I thought of that scene throughout The Only Living Pickpocket in New York, not because his genuine joy in that moment is reflected in the movie, but because in both of these on-camera moments, Turturro succinctly captures what it is to be a New Yorker. It is grappling with grief and joy in the same crazy day. It is making a family of the misfits you treasure. It is embracing this city — and the outer boroughs — with appreciation and respect. It is building a life few can understand, and frankly, they don't need to. This is a space for all kinds of dreams, all kinds of people, and all kinds of ways to lose and win.
As a crime thriller, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is a solidly entertaining ride, being sharply paced, thoughtfully shot, and stacked with a terrific cast that also includes Tatiana Maslany. But more than just another fun crime movie set in New York City, this one is also resolutely aware of the greats who came before, paying tribute without aping them. And best of all, Turturro offers a turn that showcases his humor, sexiness, pathos, and a cutting subtlety that's absolutely riveting. In a career full of outstanding performances, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York offers one of Turturro's very best.
The Only Living Pickpocket in New York was reviewed out of the New York Film Festival. It will open theatrically in New York and Los Angeles on Oct. 23, then expand nationwide on Oct. 30.