Wednesday, December 19, 2012

The Pawnbroker

Sidney Lumet's The Pawnbroker (1964) is an impressive work. A dark chamber drama, its skirting of censorship, striking editing and craft a memorable depressing atmosphere.

Sol Nazerman (Rod Steiger) runs a pawnshop in Harlem. A mentally scarred Holocaust survivor, Sol rejects all human contact, whether from his family, customers or young assistant Rico (Jaime Sanchez). Sol discovers his boss Rodriguez (Brock Peters) is a crooked slumlord, and is puzzled by widow Marilyn's (Geraldine Fitzgerald) efforts to reach out to him. Ultimately things go south when Rodriguez comes to collect his debt - and when Rico tries to rob his store.

The Pawnbroker is Lumet's most technically ambitious work. Editor Ralph Rosenblum provides New Wave-inspired jump cuts, flashing Sol back to the concentration camp with the slightest triggers. Boris Kaufman's dark shadows and brooding camera angles construct a nasty, violent urban jungle. With Quincy Jones' throbbing score and a very early nude scene, Lumet provides a subversive edge which marked his '70s work.

Hollywood rarely addressed the Holocaust: Judgment at Nuremberg's use of Auschwitz newsreels was many Americans' introduction to the topic. European films were no less circumspect: Alain Renais's restrained documentary Night and Fog won plaudits while Gillo Pontecorvo's Kapo was pilloried for "glamorizing" concentration camps. Nowadays of course, the Holocaust is fair game for shoot-'em-up action (Defiance) and grotesque exploitation (Inglourious Basterds). Even good entries like Schindler's List rarely consider its effects on individuals.

The Pawnbroker explicitly compares Harlem's ghetto with Nazi Germany. Sol explicitly equates Thelma Oliver's prostitution with his wife's rape by camp guards. Once a college professor, Sol now toils in a socially-designated role as a money-handling "kike." Rico's attempts to reform came to naught; Sol's testiness pushes him back towards his street gang. Only Rodriguez gets out of the ghetto through managing vice rackets. Undoubtedly a heavy-handed comparison, it nonetheless exhibits palpable rage at social inequity.

The Pawnbroker is principally a character study. With his antisocial attitudes and self-loathing, Sol presages Gene Hackman in The Conversation.  He avoids emotion by shunning human contact, which backfires when his relatives abandon him and Rico returns to crime. Sol seemingly finds a kindred spirit in Marilyn but pushes her away too. His psychological scarring and inability to connect make him a pitiable figure.

Rod Steiger gives a career-best performance. He rejects his habitual hamming (see Waterloo) and gives an intense performance. Steiger gives Sol a demure Yiddish accent and defeated mannerisms, showing a man who'd be happier dead. It's astonishingly credible work from an actor rarely known for restraint. 

Geraldine Fitzgerald is heartbreaking as a lonely woman who (mistakenly) sees Sol as a potential friend. Jaime Sanchez's likeable turn registers more positively than his mannered work in The Wild Bunch. Brock Peters (To Kill a Mockingbird) is cast against-type as a suave villain. Raymond St. Jacques (Glory) plays a street thug and Juano Hernandez (Sergeant Rutledge) has a memorable walk-on.

The Pawnbroker remains a powerful film. Elements of it feel overwrought, especially the finale, but the innovative craftsmanship, dour atmosphere and Rod Steiger's acting register strongly.

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Fear not dreariness, Groggy readers! We have a special holiday post coming up in the next few days. Stay tuned.

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