New York, New York

Much is made of whether or not this is one of Martin Scorsese’s weaker efforts but I think that’s to appraise the wrong talent here. The star of the whole thing is the charismatic chanteuse “Francine” (Liza Minnelli). She a bit of a dreamer who encounters the opportunist sax player “Jimmy” (Robert De Niro) at a party in New York that is celebrating VJ Day in 1945. She isn’t much interested in the patter he has been trolling out to every woman he has met all evening, but a combination of circumstances see the two spending an increasing amount of time together and gradually falling in love. Both have their individual ambitions, too, though, and as she begins to find success thanks to a supportive producer and he likewise with his new jazz venue, their relationship is destined to be bumpy and probably short-lived. The story itself really isn’t much to write home about, nor is the style of production that suggests Bob Fossé-light from start to finish. It’s the Kander and Ebb songs from the pitch-perfect Minnelli and some equally smoky and classic music from the likes of Clarence Clemons that submerges us in a post-war city desperate for dreams, and for dreams that can come true! Moreover, it illustrates quite clearly that nice doesn’t always win, ruthless is usually the last to leave the party and that the lyrics of “New York, New York” are a potent assessment of a place where nobody ever sleeps, because they are trying to burrow the bed from under someone else. The last half hour is really just a well choreographed series of numbers from a star whom De Niro charmingly but sparingly complements, and to be honest I found it more a film I could listen to that watch. Big screen audio does the trick but if you are not into musical theatre, then maybe don’t bother.