is not really a criticism, merely an observation. Mean Streets is as powerful and as disturbing, and as hallucinatory, a `documentary' as was ever put on film, and for its kind, it stands alone. At its best it is an authentic glimpse of the streets, in all their petty meanness, a world, an inferno, which most of us will never know first-hand, but effects us just the same. Mean Streets accomplishes the end of all great art - it takes us somewhere we would normally never care (or dare) to go, and shows us that we were perhaps already there, all along.Where Mean Streets shines is in the technical virtuosity of Scorsese, as filtered through his command of the camera, lighting, space and music. Typified by the excellent opening sequence, which introduces the major characters with scenes of their own, Scorsese captures exactly what he wants you to see and nothing more. Thus at times the view is from above, sometimes from below and, for the more dynamic scenes, a hand-held camera comes into play. At all times the actors are where Scorsese wants them, placed to achieve the desired balance. Sharp editing then ensures maximum impact. An unusual touch is the incredible use of color, saturated deep into the red in bars, then over-exposed almost to monochrome elsewhere. By itself this is merely impressive, overall pushing the film stock in this way deepens the tone of the picture. The use of red could be seen to symbolize violence and passion but also add to the creation of a dreamlike atmosphere. However, for all his vaunted technical ability, Scorsese doesn't make you care for either Charlie or Johnny. Their characters are so clear-cut and unyielding that there's no room for emotional ambiguity, which removes any opportunity for emotional identification. As hustlers they are, all surface and no substance. The point is that while Scorsese assembles almost all of the pieces needed for Mean Streets, he doesn't quite marshal them in the harmonious a...
