No matter which industry you are in, anyone who masters a skill or profession inevitably finds themselves confronted with two options: you either leave at your peak (whether by your own choice or as a result of the decision of someone else), or you do it long enough to become a veteran, celebrated for your contributions but gently pushed aside for the sake of making way for the next generation – and most of the time, it’s a matter of making the choice as to what you’d want your legacy to be when all is said and done. This is something that informs much of what propels The Only Living Pickpocket in New York, the second film written and directed by Noah Segan, in which he explores the trials and tribulations of a very peculiar protagonist who finds himself facing quite a conundrum. The film follows Harry Lehman, a self-proclaimed “old head” who has been working as a pickpocket for decades, mastering the art of petty theft, and becoming something of an elder statesman amongst the local community, who almost view him as a lovable eccentric more than a career criminal. What was initially his entire livelihood and a means to pay the bills eventually becomes nothing more than a hobby, a means for him to pass the time now that he is nearing what he is hoping will be a long-overdue retirement from living life on the edge, where he can care for his terminally ill wife and enjoy whatever time they have left together. However, when he encounters a young man whom he mistakenly believes will be an easy mark, Harry finds his entire life thrown into disarray when he realises that he has finally gotten himself caught in a trap where there is no clear way out, forcing him to scramble to tie up any loose ends before it is too late. A brilliantly complex blend of existential philosophy, psychological drama and crime thriller, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is an incredible piece of filmmaking, handcrafted by a director who may not be as established behind the camera at the present, but will most certainly be worth watching considering the depth of what he achieves with this film, a bold and compelling exploration of a man seeking redemption, but discovering that, while it is possible, it does come with a cost, and one that he isn’t entirely sure he is ready to pay just yet.

There is something very mystifying about growing older and realising that it is entirely untenable to believe that someone can exist at their peak indefinitely: even the greatest masters of their respective fields find themselves being forced to move aside for the rambunctious youth, who may not have the experience and wisdom that comes with age but certainly have enough ambition to make up for it. At first, it seems like this is the primary message that The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is trying to communicate, especially since there are a couple of cornerstone conversations in which the protagonist engages in playful banter with his younger counterparts, who respect the work he did in their chosen vocation, but also prefer to look forward, rather than being fixated on the past, which is ultimately what leads to the film’s central tension, in which the core themes are revealed. The story is built around ageing as more than just a biological process – everyone gets older, and our bodies all begin to fall apart at the seams, as we see through Harry’s interactions with some of his peers, with whom he has a long and storied history, making their conversations so rich and evocative, but also deeply revealing. The focus of The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is not to be a slick heist thriller built around a pickpocket who is slowly losing his previously ironclad grasp on this unconventional profession, but rather a story about the challenges that come with growing older and being haunted by the ghosts of the past, which can cause even the most strong-willed of us to feel some intense pressure to revisit old wounds. It all sounds very abstract, but there is a grit to this film that justifies some of these more esoteric themes, since this is ultimately a parable about a man who flew slightly too close to the sun, and finds himself forced into a position where he not only has to resolve a very severe crisis as fast as possible, but also finds himself reflecting on the past, trying to reconcile his previous experiences in an effort to understand how he actually reached this particular point in his life, which he realises is very likely going to be the end of more than just his career. It’s a complex premise, but one that is beautifully constructed, capturing the innermost nuances of Harry’s journey, both physical and psychological, as he moves towards a future that seems uncertain to everyone except him.

If there was anyone who proved that an actor could participate in multiple well-received productions across film, television and on stage (often leading many of them), while also remaining one of the most unheralded performers of their generation, it would be John Turturro, who has never delivered a performance where he wasn’t entirely committed to whatever he was required to do. The part of Harry Lehman is tailored for an actor of his stature – a salt-of-the-earth performer with an unforgettable screen presence and a wealth of talent, enough to make a relatively ambiguous character feel so incredibly familiar. A large part of this film comes in how we are presented with this complex cypher of a protagonist, a man who is shrouded in mystery by design, but where this façade slowly unravels to reveal his many nuances lingering beneath the surface. Turturro is such a tremendously gifted actor that there is not a single moment in The Only Living Pickpocket in New York where we feel tempted to divert our attention away from him (which is an astonishing achievement, considering Segan has crafted such a rich, evocative depiction of New York City, the kind of vision of the Big Apple that we would normally expect to see under the curation of filmmakers like Martin Scorsese and Spike Lee – we have to wonder if their influence extended to the decision to cast Turturro in the lead role, having collaborated with them both and therefore serving as something of a bridge between these generations of filmmakers), and he commands the screen with a subtle ferocity that only consolidates him as one of the greatest actors of his generation, and it is easy to see this coming to be seen as one of his defining performances. It certainly helps that he is surrounded by equally gifted actors, who may not have particularly large roles, but still factor into the fabric of the film as part of the sprawling ensemble. Steve Buscemi is as endearing as ever as the crotchety pawn shop owner who finds himself pulled into yet another one of Harry’s ambitious schemes, while Giancarlo Esposito is allowed to be a bit looser than usual as the ageing detective who is reflecting on his own career as his retirement lingers over the horizon. Jamie Lee Curtis enters the film in the final act, playing the primary villain who exists only as a concept for most of the story, before she arrives and delivers a stellar performance across from Turturro in the chilling final few scenes in which everything – both narratively and thematically – falls into place. It’s a terrific ensemble led by a truly gifted actor, everyone coming together to help Segan realise this ambitious but poignant premise.

The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is a film with a strong set of underlying themes, and some tremendous performances that are more than capable of bringing these ideas to the surface in even the most difficult of moments. However, it would not have been nearly as successful had it not been handled by someone who understood that this kind of subject matter doesn’t only demand good ideas, but also meets certain practical requirements, which is where some of the most inspired work is being done. Segan is not a newcomer to the industry by any means (he is a somewhat recognisable character actor who has been a part of some solid productions over the years), but as a filmmaker, he has not quite proven himself just yet, especially since his only prior directing credit was Blood Relatives, an entertaining but mostly trivial vanity project. Looking at this film, you would expect it to be directed by a seasoned veteran, someone who has seen every nook and cranny of not only the film industry, but the world in which the story takes place. The film plays like one of the many gritty crime dramas produced in the 1970s, with the grainy aesthetic and easygoing tone creating a fascinating contrast that reflects the often brutal and borderline nihilistic subject matter. The key to comes in finding the correct rhythm, since this is not the kind of film that can rely solely on the dialogue to communicate both its core message and the more subtle, intricately woven ones that are not immediately noticeable, and instead uses atmosphere to set the mood and guide us through the world. There is a lot that is communicated without any words – the movements of the actors through a specific space (with everyone in this film being in transit in some form or another, both literally and metaphorically), or how the camera captures the city over the course of the two days in which this film takes place. Visually and aurally, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York proves to be a truly sensory experience, which helps immerse the audience in this fascinating and deeply moving story, being as artistically resonant as it is emotionally quite rich, having a quiet authenticity that adds to the overall sincerity of this film, never trying to over-extend itself to the point where it loses its overall grasp on what truly matters.

At its foundation, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is an extremely simple film, but one that tends to hide this fact behind layers of complexity that don’t necessarily distract from its core themes so much as it attempts to reveal deeper meaning in the process without making it too complicated or unnecessarily verbose, which is always a risk with this high-concept thrillers that usually benefit most from a more nuanced approach rather than attempting to redefine the genre. It’s a surprisingly easygoing, freewheeling film – not in spite of its subject matter, but rather as a result of it. The heist scenes are fascinating – although it is very sparing in showing Harry’s process – there is only one brief moment in which we hear him explaining his technique, which is coincidentally one of the film’s most emotional scenes, in which he advises a young pickpocket, essentially handing over his tricks of the trade in the hopes that someone will preserve what is evidently a dying art – and they’re contrasted with the more quiet, meditative moments in which the protagonist reflects on his past and tries to understand the way forward at first, before realising that this may just be the end of the road for him, in ways that he didn’t initially expect. There are layers to this film that require the viewer to be actively engaged, observing the world alongside Harry as he makes his way through it, seeing the beauty where others would just find hostility, which adds to the optimistic tone that gradually emerges, existing in tandem with the melancholy to create a fascinating balance from which some of the most integral sequences flourish into what turns out to be a far more elegant affair than anyone may have anticipated based on the premise. It’s a genuinely moving character study about a man doing what he can to redeem himself without feeling any regrets, since his journey (as thorny and complex as it may have been) is something that brings him both enormous pride and profound sadness, since it reflects a life spent in pursuit of something that he always knew was truly intangible, but which never dissuaded him from thinking that it would be achieved at some point. Anchored by a tremendous ensemble, beautifully written and brilliantly directed (and it should be noted, it runs only 88 minutes, proving that there is always merit in a film choosing not to overstay its welcome, even if we do wish we could’ve spent more time with this character), The Only Living Pickpocket in New York is a wonderful film that takes a labyrinthine premise and turns it into one of the most poetic, captivating odes to this strange and peculiar world, and its beautifully eccentric inhabitants, all of whom are on their own individual journeys towards whatever salvation they believe is waiting for them on the other side.