Grade: B
Synopsis: A New York man (Mickey Rourke) dreaming of a better life can’t walk away from the scheming cousin (Eric Roberts) holding him back.
The Pope of Greenwich Village is a very well acted, atmospheric film that, unfortunately, lacks any real resonance.
Mickey Rourke’s performance is fantastic. He echoes a young Marlon Brando in the quiet desperation that he cultivates behind his eyes. Thanks to his charisma, you like Rourke’s character almost instantly, and, more importantly, forgive his critical flaw, his love for his scheming, no-good cousin. It’s an impressive turn that’s dwarfed only by that of his co-star, Eric Roberts, as the cousin in question.
Roberts’ role is more challenging than Rourke’s in that he must find away to retain the audience’s sympathy despite his selfish behavior. It’s a fine line, and one that could quickly descend into caricature, but Roberts pulls it off.
Indeed, the acting in The Pope of Greenwich Village is all top-of-the-line, but what the film needs is a director to give it meaning. Stuart Rosenberg does a great job capturing the ambience and atmosphere of New York, but fails to imbue the film with anything deeper. It’s a shame because it keeps a good movie from becoming a great one. Put Scorsese or perhaps even Coppola behind the camera and you might have something magical, but Rosenberg just isn’t up to it.
