You can watch Sidney Lumet’s half-dozen most acclaimed movies and still have a huge handful of hidden gems to discover. I’ve taken it upon myself to investigate his filmography to see if there’s any great films in their midst, and if The Pawnbroker remains my favourite of them all I’ll stay satisfied. Lumet has evidently had a close relationship with New York and this is his bleakest portrait of it so far seen through the eyes of his most tragic character. A Jewish pawnbroker, Sol, suffering from PTSD who’s constantly under the weight of money issues from every angle. A true anti-hero here, he doesn’t even offer a hand to a young pregnant woman in need. His view is nihilistic, but due to his spiritual death at concentration camps where his soul was sucked dry. Now he’s resigned to the prison of his pawn shop.

Despite his death of spirit and desire for peace and quiet, all walks of life enter his shop, sometimes contrasted together, and they’re often vibrantly desperate. Everyone is under the boot of someone here, Sol and his customers and Sol and the people he owes money to. The film keeps hold of its novelistic approach from the source material, perhaps to its detriment as it feels bloated with extraneous characters that could have been shredded. Its best for its stark ‘New Wave’-esque photography with dramatic zooms and push ins and harsh black and white lighting. Some of its images feel like they burst off the screen. It utilises very abrasive editing that borrows concepts from Resnais’ Hiroshima Mon Amour where memories appear on screen in short bursts. It’s not as well handled, often feeling clumsy in its pacing, but the effect is often powerful.

Paired with the bombastic score, it’s often an overwhelming blend of visuals and sound that the characters feel disorientated by too. Rod Steiger holds the film on his shoulders like a bull. Often sensitive, often reserved, but when he rants in a monologue, his words hit hard. He’s especially astounding in the film’s closing moments. Not all the performances meet his match, some are too high strung. It is a blessing and a curse that Lumet films run a little long as the film takes too long to set itself up. It would be a favourite worthy film if I connected to haunted past narratives a little more. I feel like what it’s trying to say is fascinating, and although it has the drive it needed a tiny bit more focus and balance. Perhaps The Pawnbroker is a relic of its time in post-war mourning, but it’s still an irable and arresting film. Only a handful of minor shortcomings hold it back from the level of his more obvious greats. I eagerly await more Lumet.