Porfle Popnecker

Currently rewatching: MIDNIGHT COWBOY (1969). The only X-rated film ever to win Best Picture (it was later reduced to an R). The two great lead performances consist of Dustin Hoffman as skid row denizen "Ratso" Rizzo and Jon Voight as a naive Texas stud named Joe Buck who thinks he can make money hustling rich New York matrons who are just "beggin' for it." Rarely has this sort of life been portrayed in such a bleak and desolate manner as the two unlikely friends struggle to scrape up a meager buck while living in a condemned building. Joe's prospects grow dimmer every day, forcing him to engage in the lowest forms of prostitution, while Ratso's physical deterioration mirrors that of their increasingly hopeless living conditions. John Schlesinger's creative direction and the sometimes free-form editing are amazingly, deliriously experimental. Flashbacks, fantasies, and delusions often combine to turn the narrative into a fever dream that's alternately humorous (Ratso's fantasies of a sunbaked life in Florida) and frightening (Joe's garbled memories of childhood sexual and emotional confusion and warped romantic encounters). Yet the funny, perversely sentimental, and at times achingly tragic story always remains grounded and strong, leading to a heartrending and overwhelmingly sad ending that is rendered for maximum effect with the skill of a virtuoso by director Schlesinger. The supporting cast includes Brenda Vaccaro, Bernard Hughes, John McGiver, Sylvia Miles, and Bob Balaban. A dizzying party sequence features some familiar names associated with Andy Warhol and the New York avant garde scene. I hadn't seen MIDNIGHT COWBOY for quite some time before revisiting it just now, and what I vaguely remembered as a "sad" ending hit me full force this time and I cried pretty much all the way through the closing credits. Some of the most innovative and creatively self-assured films ever made came out of the late 60s, and this is one of the best.