The Tortured Memories of The Pawnbroker (1965)

The opening scenes of director Sidney Lumet's The Pawnbroker (1965) display sweeping cinematography not often seen in contemporary films. The wide shots of the German landscape of the 1930s capture the beauty of the countryside. The cinematography hint there is a great deal to the world. So much to look forward to. Sol Nazerman has a wonderful wife and two children. His life is idyllic. And then the storybook world ends.

The same cinematography returns in the next scene to reveal the Long Island of the 1960s. The growing suburban landscape is vast and lonely. Sol Nazerman is much older. He sits in a chair by himself. Although he lives with family members, he keeps his misanthropic distance. Nazerman was close with his wife and children. He is not interested in being close with anyone again.

The symbolism of the suburban landscape is impossible to miss. In a mostly subtle film, the symbolism is jarring and obvious. The layout of the houses looks like a military-style prison camp. Although he left the camp, he never really left.

The Existential Prison

The symbolism is sadly appropriate for the one-time university professor. He spent years in a Nazi concentration camp and lost the wife and children he loved. Physically, Nazerman - brilliantly played by Rod Steiger in a legendary performance - was able to survive the camp, but he was stripped of his humanity and freedom. He survived but is no longer alive. Nazerman is mentally trapped in his own prison and by his new lot in life. As the proprietor of a pawn shop, Nazerman deals with the lost and those who skirt the law. His new career is a prison of sorts.

Nazerman may have chosen such a loathsome career path because doing so would have made it impossible for him to have any meaningful or serious interactions with others. He doesn't want them. This is not to say he doesn't need them. Sol Nazerman doesn't want social interactions.

Distance. Distance has a relationship with isolation. In the opening scenes at the pawn shop, Sol Nazerman keeps a massive distance from the customers who walk into his store. A sad sack, a cheery woman, and a rambling man looking for conversation are all ignored by Sol Nazerman. He doesn't want to interact with others. He prefers self-isolation. Sol doesn't like isolation. No one could. He has made a pact with his loneliness.

"I'm not particularly concerned with the future." These are the words he gives to a social worker collecting money for charity.

Memories of the Walking Dead

Sol maintains a relationship with Tessie, the widow of his friend Reuben Reuben was another person viciously killed in the concentration camp. The relationship is a ghost of the past. Sol cannot bring his wife back or recreate what once existed. Neither can the lonely Tessie. Sol Nazerman's attempts to end his loneliness through brief respites with the widow do nothing more than creating a burning, searing reminder of his isolation and loss. Nazerman continues to repeat the vicious cycle time and time. Perhaps he has the feeling things may sometimes change with the next visit. Things never change. The future does not change for Nazerman because the past cannot be changed.

Tessie's ill father Mendel has utter contempt for Sol Nazerman's approach to life.

“Share the dignity of death with those who really died….can you feel pain?”


“No.”


“You breathe. You eat. You walk. You make money. You take a dream and give a dollar.”


“I survived.”


“A coward’s survival and at a price. No passion. No pity….The walking dead.”


Mendel realizes the story Sol has to tell could be an inspiring one. Sol Nazerman has the potential to be a professor once again and educate the world. He won’t though. So, Mendel has his contempt.

Holding onto (and Forgetting) the Past

Mendel does not see the process Sol Nazerman has crafted. He has shut down all his emotions in order to blunt the pain, suffering, and trauma he feels. Nazerman has created a wall around himself to crush and suppress his emotions. This way, he is able to survive through life, albeit in a misanthropic, isolated way.

In fairness to Nazerman, his brutal flashbacks force his isolation. He does create a further psychological barrier by looking down on the lost souls who enter his pawn shop. Others do not realize that Nazerman suffers from a brutal post-traumatic stress disorder and is plagued by flashbacks. He has to keep a distance to keep the flashbacks brought on by visual associations at bay.

The strange obsession with money furthers Nazerman's goal of isolating himself. By concentrating all his efforts and time on making money, Nazerman can ignore other aspects of his life. He really doesn't care about the money. Earning money takes up all his time, which leaves him with no time to deal with other aspects of reality. Making money is a drug to numb pain and feelings.

When a drug addict appears in the shop to pawn a radio, Nazerman shows nonchalant disgust towards the young man. Doing so is little more than a reflection of his own self-loathing upon looking over the pawn counter to a mirror of himself.

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Anger at the world fuels Sol Nazerman's self-loathing, but another emotional state is at the core of his feelings. The pawnbroker is swallowed by guilt. Nazerman feels horrific guilt over being the person who survived the concentration camp. He wonders why he wasn't the person taken away instead of his wife and children. The guilt turns into inner anger and hate. Nazerman is punishing himself for what happened in the camp.

And So Comes Renewal

Sol Nazerman, the pawnbroker, becomes someone who can be forgiven for all his misanthropic tendencies when we discover the core root of his pain. His wife was sexually abused in the concentration camp, and Nazerman carries the guilt of not being able to help her with him. We learn he has been laundering money for the mob, his morals cast aside due to his hatred for society. Upon discovering he has been laundering money derived from prostitution, Nazerman wants nothing - nothing at all - to do with the scheme. The pawnbroker is shocked back into humanity, and, while not too late, his return is still late.

Sol Nazerman realizes he lost many years of his life. He knows Mendel was right in his assessment of the pawnbroker's self-imposed miserable lot in life. Can he change? Truly change? There will always be a level of ambiguity to any answers.

 

Post-Script on The Pawnbroker

The 1960's and 1970's were both daring times for the motion picture industry. While television would slowly descend into sitcom and other formulas out of budget necessities, the motion picture industry was exploring into very experimental territory. Themes barely - or never - touched previously were being brought to the forefront. The controversies associated with The Pawnbroker were massive and, although the film was a mild box office success, its impact was profound. The Pawnbroker contributed mightily to the end of the Production Code and the Legion of Decency and helped spawn the MPAA rating system. 

Ironically, while television has become more daring and experimental these days, the motion picture industry is more formula-driven than ever before. Truly thought-provoking films such as The Pawnbroker are exceedingly rare.

Edward G. Robinson: The Small Man Playing It Big In Key Largo

"This rain should cool things off, but it don't."

So says Edward G. Robinson in Key Largo.

Things don't cool off in Key Largo. They heat up.

The war hero returns from the battle only to discover a new fight at home. This plot convention has been used in a number of exploitation action movies, although it was arguably done best in the 1948 Humphrey Bogart/Edward G. Robinson classic.

A lot more is going on in the film that simply setting up a fight between Bogart's Frank McCloud, a war veteran, and Robinson's Johnny Rocco, a vicious gangster. Trapped in the microcosm of a hotel during a hurricane, the war hero, the innocent family, and the gangster crew, the motivations behind Rocco's evil are slowly revealed.

As the drama plays out in the hotel, we learn Rocco is a man who is driven by his own twisted ambitions and greed. The greed is not rooted in procuring huge amounts of material things, but to quell a harsh personality disorder and an inferiority complex. Bogart's character is able to battle the villain by slowly getting under his skin.

"He knows what he wants....He wants more...don't you Rocco?"

When asked if he will ever have enough, Rocco responds:

"Well, I never have....."

Bogart's McCloud reveals what he wants more than anything. "A world in which there is no place for Johnny Rocco." Ironically, when first given the chance to kill Rocco, McCloud throws a gun away not wanting to lower himself to the level of the gangster.

McCloud later makes the revelation that fighting Rocco is not his battle. He has no desire to put his life on the line to stop the gangster or get in the thug's way. McCloud has nothing but searing contempt for the gangster, but he isn't going to risk  - and likely lose - his life trying to stop Rocco.

Or will he? Perhaps McCloud simply does not want to give Rocco the satisfaction of seeing him as a "big deal". Rocco is a driven man, but he is driven by a desire for status. Criminal endeavors allow this sense of status, undeserved as it may be.

A world without people like Johnny Rocco would not be like anything found in the history of human civilization. There are always going to be petty people whose insecurities form the basis of their antisocial behavior. And Rocco's antisocial tendencies are all on display in the dramatics playing out in the hotel.

Within the microcosm of what takes place in a Key Largo, a small man like Johnny Rocco gives great insight into sociological (and sociopathic) problems in the world outside the hotel's doors.