Many moons ago, when I was a shiftless twentysomething working in the CD/DVD department of a Major Chain Bookstore, I was approached by a friendly man in his late 20s who wanted a recommendation for a comedy. I was excited to help– I was still a bright-eyed film student, and this was the first time I’d been asked by a customer for a movie suggestion– so I asked him what sort of films he enjoyed. “Oh, anything!” he replied cheerfully. “Just something to make me laugh!” Taking this as free license, I scanned through the comedy section for something that caught my eye. “Oh! After Hours!” I cried triumphantly. “This is a great movie! It’s Martin Scorsese, and it’s really funny!” As the man walked out, DVD in hand, I smiled, knowing that I had done some good in the world. My smile faded, however, when I had a slow, obvious realization. “Crap,” I thought. “I just ruined this guy’s day.”
While justly recognized for his diverse array of talents, Martin Scorsese is rarely cited for his sense of humor. Sure, King of Comedy has Jerry Lewis and Sandra Bernhard, but only those with particularly mordant sensibilities would consider it a ha-ha comedy. After Hours, on the other hand, is— albeit one of the absolute darkest order. Griffin Dunne plays a nebbishy accountant who meets-cute with bohemian Rosanna Arquette, who invites him to her SoHo loft. As they get to know each other, Dunne begins to get the creeping impression that Arquette is hiding grotesque burn scars (Comedy gold!), and eventually flees into the night. Stuck in a pre-ATM New York after midnight, Dunne makes his way uptown, through a series of obstacles that escalate from “lost wallet” to “lynch mob” surprisingly quickly.
In some ways, After Hours feels like a newly middle-aged artist trying to connect with what The Kids are into– its quirky artists and punk clubs are very much of the New York art scene of the mid-’80s, and it’s clear that Scorsese has less connection to this world than to the scrappy outsiders and classic rock that populate his better-known works. Yet After Hours feels remarkably fresh; its cast of familiar comic ringers (including Catherine O’Hara, Teri Garr, the late John Heard, and– for real– Cheech and Chong) make the darkness of the material even more shocking, and Joseph Minion’s screenplay is just as blackly delightful as his later gonzo masterpiece Vampire’s Kiss. What’s more, After Hours benefits immensely from its creator’s shadow: in a filmography filled with undisputed masterpieces whose reputations can’t help but precede them, a lean, underseen comedy feels like a breath of fresh air. For those looking for a breezy afternoon laugh, it’s maybe not the best choice (sorry, guy), but to those on its wavelength, it’s a treasure.
After Hours
1985
dir. Martin Scorsese
97 min.
Screens Wednesday, 8/2, 9:00PM @Brattle
Double feature w/ Frederick Wiseman’s Law & Order
Curated by The Safdie Brothers, whose new film Good Time will have a preview screening at the Brattle Sunday 8/6
35mm!
