Most movies choose to focus on one love letter to something. The Only Living Pickpocket in New York was ambitious, and did a double delivery. Well actually, maybe it was one giant love letter to a specific place and time in New York City, that is slowly falling away to make space for matcha lattes and crypto bros.
Harry Lehman (Turturro) is our pickpocket. It’s a dying, evolving industry now, as a cashless society means Harry ends up at Ben’s (Steve Buscemi) pawn shop with phones or hopefully watches if he’s lucky, just trying to make ends meet to care for his mute, crippled wife Rosie (Karina Arroyave) in his modest Bronx apartment. One night Harry thinks he lands a gold mine, getting a hell of a cash score from gym libertarian type Dylan (Will Price). Two problems: 1) Harry swipes what looks like a fancy credit card, but actually has some sort of USB connection showing that 2) Dylan is hella rich, and very likely hella connected if he’s walking around with that kind of eff you money.
Writer Director Noah Segan makes The Only Living Pickpocket in New York instantly classic and timeless. Harry’s life is lived in blue collar Martin Scorsese land, on the street struggling to make ends meet. Segan uses the subway and buses masterfully, making us feel like the world is moving while Harry is standing still watching it go by. The shops we go to would have been robbed in those Scorsese places like they do here: grimy pawn shops or Chinatown/electronic wholesalers. And the jazzy bluesy underscore feels right out of those 70s crime capers. The only little difference is the villain. But even that change works towards the movie’s timeless. To watch the lovable scamp Harry meet his match against the worst kind of podcast acolyte Dylan spouting finance jargon to sound adult means that Harry’s adversary is more than just a “mob boss”. It’s time itself, younger, and coming for what little he has left, a fight we all might have to go through at some point in our own lives, just upgraded for 2026 movie audiences. I look forward to the eventual Criterion Channel release in a month when The Only Living Pickpocket in New York leaves theaters.
The other classic piece is Turturro. He’s on the short list of people who could represent the city. Segan makes sure the story plays to his star’s strengths, and then simply gets out of his way. We get physical actor John, with an unexpected but sweet dance number. Quippy John ready with a line for whomever he’s sharing a scene with. Pensive John on those Subways and Buses trying to wrangle himself out if his jam. Angry Scary John when Rosie’s well being comes into question. And the reason this movie is made, the big moments we see melancholic John, who always finds a way into your heart no matter how cruel or bad he’s just been. There’s a scene in Queens that will break your heart, and the ending is pitch perfect from him, with the actor he’s in the scene with admiring the work he’s doing.
The Only Living Pickpocket in New York can be a fun prank a young cinephile might play on an older retired relative. Maybe go see the movie with them, and then when talking about it after, casually mention how you’re happy your parents showed you it when you were younger. The movie so feels like a 70s thriller that you might convince them they did it, and make their day for it. A little white lie never hurt anyone anyways.