No Turbilhão da Metrópole

It shows its age, and that's part of its charm. It's filled with old-fashioned ethnic stereotypes, but that makes it even more fascinating. This movie is a time machine; hop into it and you'll see a gritty and realistic picture of working-class New York City life in the early 1930s. It's pre-Code, so the language is blunt and the sexuality more open. The plot isn't Shakespeare, but it grabs onto you anyway, and the characters are so attractive and watchable that you become part of their neighborhood. A piece of cinematic and social history that is well worth your 80 minutes of time.

In a hot summer afternoon in New York, Emma Jones (Beulah Bondi) gossips with other neighbors of her residential building about the affair of Mrs. Anna Maurrant (Estelle Taylor) and the milkman Steve Sankey (Russell Hopton). When the rude Mr. Frank Maurrant (David Landau) arrives, they change the subject. Meanwhile, their teenage daughter Rose Maurrant (Sylvia Sidney) is sexually harassed by her boss Mr. Bert Easter (Walter Miller); however, she likes her Jewish neighbor Sam (William Collier Jr.) that has a crush on her. On the next morning, Frank tells that is traveling to Stanford on business. Mrs. Maurrant meets the gentle Sankey in her apartment, but out of the blue Frank comes back home in an announced tragedy.

"Street Scene" is an unknown early sound movie directed by King Vidor based on a play of Elmer Rice that explores the new technology to the maximum. The awesome story of gossips, small talks, adultery and murders in a hot day in New York has witty and feral dialogs associated to excellent performances and magnificent camera work. My vote is eight.

Title (Brazil): "No Turbilhão da Metrópole" ("In the Whirlpool of the Metropolis")

Even though this is a filmed version of a stage play, it never seems like a "filmed play," thanks to the fluid camera work and the excellent direction of King Vidor. The film is vibrant throughout and, at about an hour and 18 minutes, for me wasn't long enough. It never seems quaint or clunky, the way a lot of movies from this era do. Sylvia Sidney is the best known person in the cast but there are a few familiar faces among the supporting cast, such as Beulah Bondi and John Qualen. All are excellent. Highly recommended for the serious viewer interested in seeing filmed American literature.

This is my favorite Hollywood movie of the thirties, and it's hard to tell why. It has a radiance that no other movie has. It's filmed theater, but somehow more alive than real life. It takes ordinary life and challenges us to see the beauty in it, or even the ugliness, anything rather than nothing. It depicts a sordid life, but isn't all life sordid? All actors are wonderful, especially Bondi and Sydney. The camera work is a dream. It makes you love people. Cheap theatrics are deftly avoided. This is art. It makes a symphony of cacophony.

King Vidor's Street Scene, from the infancy of the sound era, may be cinema's quintessential slice of life. Drawn from the 1929 Pulitzer Prize-winning drama by Elmer Rice – so many movies from the earliest 1930s were little more than filmed stage plays – Street Scene surmounts the limitations of its time and its material to achieve the status of a minor milestone in movie history. It's dated, occasionally clumsy, but unforgettable.

Street Scene's microcosm is a brownstone in a Manhattan tenement block during a scorching heat wave. The residents, in their various comings and goings, loiter on its front stoop to catch a stray zephyr and exchange some gossip. The gossip-in-chief is Beulah Bondi, a dried-up streel griping that she doesn't have a `dry stitch' on her (Vidor permits himself a cheeky shot of her, shot from below and behind, when she furtively unsticks her house dress from her, well, person).

Incidental players include a henpecked young husband whose wife is about to go into labor; an elderly Jew spouting socialist rant; his son, a non-violent college man with a crush on a gentile girl; cheerful Italians and dour Scandinavians; pinched and bitter social workers; gasbags, mashers and inebriates.

After reviling the weather with immemorial cliches, the characters turn wickedly to their chief topic: the milkman's suspicious visits to a married woman upstairs. (Her daughter, the central character in the drama -- Sylvia Sidney -- makes a later entrance but will ring down the curtain.) Meanwhile, the characters carry on city life in a rough-and-tumble of casually aimed racist barbs, sanctimonious judgementalism, and general acceptance of the notion that one's neighbors' lives are the reality television of the day, to be viewed with gusto. The potent cocktail of slander and humidity will have fatal results.

Vidor employs his talents adroitly. The movie's first `act' stays stubbornly crouched on that stoop, but gradually Vidor opens up his stage in a series of tilts and pans so that the brownstone becomes but one cell in a bustling urban organism. (Technically, it's precocious, and the story's dramatic `climax' arrives in a montage that may elicit smiles but still remains impressive.) Surviving current attitudes about political correctness and convincing `realism' (that most elusive of artifices), Street Scene endures as haunting, human experiment – among the finest of the first `talkies.'

Note: Rice's play was later to become the libretto to Kurt Weill's Broadway `opera' Street Scene.