Midnight Cowboy

1969 Best Picture

Rating: 18/20

Plot: The titular cowboy moves to the Big Apple to make it big as a gigolo. He struggles until he runs into a two-bit criminal named Enrico Rizzo, and then he winds up struggling even more. Regardless, the two strike up a friendship and become roommates.

Everybody who knows me well knows of my affinity for Harry Nilsson, and I could hear "Everybody's Talkin'" 14,000 times without getting sick of it. Actually, I'm pretty sure I did hear it 14,000 times during the first half hour of Midnight Cowboy. Here's a classic that is not without its share of problems--the oft-imitated style makes it feel dated, as does the drug and sex and late-60's counterculture references. I'm not sure I care about the artsy-fartsy flashback sequences, but the experimental choppy editing gives this an almost nightmarish vibe that I really like. It keeps things ominous even though there's a sad humor just below the surface, almost like these two characters could have been plopped into a wacky sitcom in the late-70s and been just fine. Those characters? This movie's as much about New York in the late-60s just as much as these two, but it's a study of an unlikely friendship that never makes a lot of sense but is nonetheless touching. Voight's wide-eyed outsider, naivete dripping from his boots, keeps him likable even though he's too stupid to root for and is tough to pin down. Is he angry? He should be. Does he really think he's going to make it? He shouldn't. Hoffman creates this limping barely human character that you also like even though he gives you no real reason to like him. I like the nuances with his character--the reaching for the spare change in every pay telephone coin slot, the persistent coughing without a single covering of the mouth, the darting eyes. He's almost street smart, and you almost wonder what the circumstances were that put him in the situation he's in. And you almost believe him when he tells us that the two basic ingredients to sustain life are sunshine and coconut milk. The famous "I'm walkin' here" that leads into a pedestrian's shocked "What's that?" is pure 1960's movie magic. Voight and Hoffman are both great playing these characters who really should clash, but they have this weird chemistry and the friendship they develop is touching in a very strange and ambiguous way. This is a movie made of a lot of fine moments, a couple that work almost like little short stories. Buck's "I want to see the Statue of Liberty" come-on line that leads to a rendezvous with a cougar and a remote control ends in irony that might have been from an O. Henry story that never made it past the censors. And I just love the expression on the dog's face after that plays out. The movie's also got a great tragic ending. All Dustin Hoffman movies should end on a bus, I think. And hey, that's Bob Balaban!