In 1983, after directing a string of classics including Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and The King of Comedy — and kicking a bad cocaine habit — Martin Scorsese set out to adapt Nikos Kazantzakis’ novel The Last Temptation of Christ into a feature film. It didn’t go well. Just as everything was coming together, Paramount Pictures pulled the plug, citing pressure from Christian groups in the United States who promised to picket theaters if the story of Jesus’ inner struggles with divinity was ever released. The despondent director decided to do a quickie, low-budget comedy to lighten his mood and keep his name out there while his biblical epic was in turnaround. Maybe that’s why After Hours is such a strange bird — its a great director trying to be funny while he’s really pissed off.
Scorsese was a notorious New York party animal in the 1970s, so he understood the world of After Hours intimately. Griffin Dunne stars as Paul, a hopelessly square data entry worker who meets a cute girl named Marcy, played by Rosanna Arquette in one of her best roles ever, in a late-night diner. From the beginning, Paul is smitten, but Marcy — well, let’s just say she’s going through some stuff.
Marcy invites him to her SoHo apartment under the pretense of Paul buying a bagel-shaped paperweight from her sculptor roomie Kiki. But once he wanders into the wilds of 1980s New York, the going gets weird. Finally, after meeting the baffling Kiki, he makes it as far as Marcy’s bedroom, which is practically littered with red flags.
From there, things go from weird to extremely weird to life-threateningly weird. The comedy stems from Paul being a big fish out of water. Everyone he meets in late-night SoHo (including Cheech and Chong) is a freak by Reagan ’80s standards, but this is their world, and here, Paul is the freak. He never knows what set of rules he’s playing by — or if there are any rules at all.
Scorsese finally got to make The Last Temptation of Christ in 1988, after earning Paul Newman an Oscar with The Color of Money, and After Hours was mostly a forgotten curiosity. But the strange, circular fever dream of a film slowly developed its own cult through repeated reruns on late night television. It’s screening tonight, Thursday, August 26, at 7:30 p.m. as part of the Crosstown Arthouse series. Admission is $5 at the door.
