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After Hours (1985) by Martin Scorsese

A drone at a Madison Avenue firm meets a girl at a coffee shop. Later that night he calls her and she invites him to her place in Soho. She promises him a bagel and cream cheese paperweight made by her friend. On his way there his only cash flies out the window of the madly speeding taxi. It only gets more frantic. He meets a series of threatening women: a sculptress who’s into bondage*, a girl who says she was raped by someone coming down the fire escape, Miss Beehive of 1957, an ice cream truck driver, a lonely woman who makes papier-mache. Before long he is being chased by a mob. The movie is so engaging it wouldn’t be sporting to mention ATMs or point out that if the guy had started walking back to 91st St instead of trying to get cab fare, he would’ve stayed out of trouble. But then we wouldn’t have this bit of 80s downtown pop to enjoy (though the pleasure is liberally laced with unease). The only person missing from this movie is Madonna.

* Linda Fiorentino in the Linda Fiorentino role, which reminds me that in the 90s my friend Jeffrey took his parents to see The Last Seduction. That’s probably the second to the last movie I would take my folks to. Jeffrey points to Linda and says “Papa, di ba ang ganda niya?” (Look, Papa, isn’t she beautiful?). His father replies: “Maganda ba yan, e mukhang lalaki.” (Beautiful? She looks like a man.)

My rating: Tuna (lower than String but higher than Kibble)