1969 – Midnight Cowboy
It’s an American drama directed by John Schlesinger, apparently quite faithfully adapted from the novel by James Leo Herlihy. It stars Jon Voight as Joe Buck and Dustin Hoffman as Rico “Ratso” Rizzo. It tells the story about two down-on-their-luck hustlers; one is a prostitute, the other a crippled con man. It holds the distinction to be the only Best Picture winner to be rated ‘X’ (equivalent to today’s NC-17 rating). I rented it on Apple TV for 3.99 Eur.

Early this year, when flying back to Berlin, we had a 14-hour layover in Newark. We took the opportunity to go to New York to show my son all the sights. Since we didn’t have much time, we had to be economical with our sightseeing. So, naturally, we went to Times Square and up the Empire State Building, and even visited the pools where the Twin Towers stood. But what I liked the most was walking the city: going into the bodegas (we had quite a bit of hand luggage and could leave it there for a small fee), stopping at an amazing bagel shop, taking the subway, and, of course, having a lunch of pizza by the slice at some dingy counter.
I love NY! It has the same qualities that make me love Berlin so much: an amalgamation of people from all over the world, each with their little quirks, wanting to “make it” in this world. A lot of them fail, creating an underworld that is scary and artful at the same time. Berlin is facing the same problems New York is facing, too: gentrification, ever-rising rents on ever-scarce land (though a lot of it is because of strange permits and zoning ordinances), corporatization, and a growing animosity towards it from people outside the city. And we just elected a leftist Muslim mayor, too. My daughter recently told me that Berliners are throwing trash on the streets and painting the walls with graffiti on purpose to keep rich Arab and Asian investors out—as if only Berliners feel good in the gritty neighborhoods.
And yet… you find some of the kindest and most lovable oafs in the city, who supposedly have an uncultured, often accented way of speaking, but honestly put their cards on the table. It’s a concrete jungle out there, and everybody is out to get theirs, but even in the underbelly, there is love. In the movie, the two protagonists end up at some Andy Warhol-esque party with a whole bunch of strange characters. Okay, so I have no idea if those types of parties exist nowadays, but they absolutely existed in the ’90s in Berlin. You ended up in some apartment having a drunk, existentialist conversation with a total stranger you were never going to see again, or you danced the night away in some basement where people set up a few boom boxes, a few chairs, and a few beer crates and called it a nightclub. Everything had a smell that was a mix of dampness and East German brown coal; the plaster on the walls was falling down, and there were some truly weird characters around. But man, was it unpretentious.
But it’s not all fun and games, and thankfully, in the morning, I did go back to my dorm. This movie shows us the underbelly of New York City in the late ’60s, far away from the glamour. There is no Copacabana or fancy Upper East Side views (this isn’t Mad Men or Mrs Maisel). Joe Buck arrives in New York escaping some harrowing events in Texas, wanting to find a rich lady for whom he can play gigolo, and utterly fails. Together with small-time crook Ratso, they survive by squatting in a condemned building, stealing from street vendors, and pawning off their last few possessions.

In between there are some views into the gritty, let’s say non-touristy, sides of New York. There are three very different encounters with repressed homosexuals in various locations, as well as scenes showing the tediousness of hustling for even the smallest things: a wash, some crackers, even a bed. All around them is a rainbow assortment of characters; Schlesinger, the gay director, depicts them so well. This movie came out just a month or two before the Stonewall Riots; that’s the kind of scene these two characters would probably visit (though they probably couldn’t afford it).
It’s amazing how well the movie holds up. A lot of it’s the amazing cinematography, how the movie plays with irony so well. I kept laughing and eyerolling in my head while the montage of Joe driving on the Greyhound through Texas with the “Everybody’s Talkin’ at Me” song. It was probably a whole lot more shocking back then, with the im- and explicit sex scenes (every HBO show now shows more). The themes of finding friendship in a cold and unfriendly city, though are Universal and I am thankful for the movie of showing New York that way. Without it, there is no Taxi Driver, no French Connection, no Dog Day Afternoon, no Saturday Night Fever. Thank you for that!







