Pickup On South Street "So I don't get to have the fancy funeral after all…"

    365 Films

Entry #161

Pickup On South Street (1953)

Directed by Samuel Fuller

*WARNING

The following clip contains whatever constitutes as SPOILERS for a sixty-one year old movie.  Proceed with caution. 

One of the trickier aspects to the new vantage point of this blog (specifically focusing on just one sequence in a film), is that devoid of context, these particular moments might not have any meaning.  Sure, one can admire them in a vacuum, but if I have any aspirations for this blog (aside from winning a pulitzer) it would be to inspire whatever fraction of an audience exists to catch up on the films that intrigue them.  That being said, I hope I can establish right here and now that the point of admiring individual moments from a film is not to suggest that these pieces effectively sum up the entire film.  More that they are the ingredients with which the filmmakers may concoct their diabolical recipes.  If I understand how food works, sometimes certain ingredients pop at certain moments, I believe that reference is quite apt to the film world as well. 

Which brings us to today's entry, Pickup On South Street, a film that was introduced to me by a co-worker almost as a blind taste but one I took to immediately (more food references!).  I hope it is also known that there is an unimaginable plethora of films that have gone un-watched by me (including still, Ferris Bueller's Day Off! I am still not sorry about it!), so do not conclude that this is any kind of viewing history to which one must aspire.  If you're wondering why I keep going off on tangents, it's because it's rather difficult to discuss this scene without giving away from major plot elements crucial to the entirety of the rest of Pickup.  The best I can offer you is that Moe Williams (played beautifully by Thelma Ritter) is a stool pigeon returning to her cramped apartment after a long day when she is suddenly confronted by the most nefarious of mid-twentieth century villains: a commie.  Beyond that, I'd rather not say much else but only implore you to watch Ritter's performance as she conveys a lifetime of bone-shattering and nerve-weakening compromise that most likely began as a one off but has since consumed her within the span of five minutes.  Fuller also gives her a shattering monologue and wisely lets Ritter dictate the blocking, cutting, and compositions of the scene.  It's telling that the character facing the business end of a pistol is ultimately more relaxed and dignified in her bed with a makeshift halo formed above her head in the guise of a bedroom lamp.  While the character who is seemingly in control is constantly pacing, sweating, darting in and out of the depth of the frame, and when he is shown in close-up, it's the look of a truly corrupted and rotting soul.  As previously stated, Moe is a stool pigeon, willing to sell anyone to everyone for the right price.  She's nefarious and untrustworthy for sure, but she has a line, and her bankroll needs to be padded in order to afford a nice, regular funeral and not be buried in one of the anonymous graves in Potter's Field, the place where all the unclaimed bodies wind up in New York City.  Fuller spends the film peeling away layer after layer of Moe's character, yet it's in a way that never feels exploitative or unearned.  Like all great story-tellers, the characters in Fuller's films are never the one thing they appear to be at the outset.  That's why his contributions to cinema are so important, he took sturdy and briskly effective genre plots and suffused them with frail, vulnerable, and achingly complex human beings.  Pickup on South Street is just one example of the multitudinous gifts his filmography preserves.  Discovering his work was one of the truly miraculous moments in my cinematic life.  In conclusion, thank you, Adam.