Review of Midnight Cowboy (1969) by Carlos Manuel M — 22 Nov 2017

Of Schlesinger's film, in addition to the bitterness of an American dream that has never finished hiding the real nightmare that underlies it, there are a handful of immortal images distributed in its 114 minutes, a chronicle of friendship sustained in rags, chipped walls cigarette butts and disgusting soups warmed in a stove in an infected cooker, in crumpled dollar bills and in nights wandering around slums and cafes, and also in some of the most beautiful images that cinema has left of New York City , nothing touristy, nothing warm, but probably more real and tangible than any other cinema.