Review of The Panic in Needle Park (1971) by Matt C — 03 Jan 2016

"The Panic in Needle Park" is a film that I've come back to multiple times over the past several years, and one that I'm surprised doesn't have wider recognition. After all, it has a lot going for it--a stand-out performance by Al Pacino (in his first ever starting role), a screenplay by Joan Didion of all people, and fantastic, nuanced directing by Jerry Schatzberg. Yet despite all this, the film is has faded into relative obscurity over the last few decades. It's not available on any streaming services and scarce on DVD, meaning that whenever I want to watch it, I have to resort to poor quality pirated versions online, which is really a shame.

"Panic" tells the story of Helen (Kitty Winn), a naive young Midwesterner lost in New York who, after a botched illegal abortion, meets Bobby (Pacino), a charming small-time grifter and dope dealer. At the time, the city is in the midst of a "panic" (i.e. a heroin shortage), and as Bobby and Helen's relationship grows, the two fall deeper into a spiral of heroin addiction, going to greater and greater length to get their fix.

There are a lot of reasons why I could say I like "Panic" so much, but the truth is that I'm a sucker for innocent love stories, and this film, despite its gritty exterior and grim subject matter, is just that. Neither Bobby nor Helen are exactly "pure" but there's something about Bobby's unfettered optimism and boyish bravado, as well as Helen's complete faith in him, that seems child-like and innocent. Both characters are selfish and flawed, yet for better or worse, in good times and bad, they stick by each other. In this way, I see "Panic" as more of a 'love' film than a 'drug' film. The film is about addiction, yes, but the addiction serves more as a series of obstacles that the couple must overcome to stay together rather than a true centerpiece. Of course, at a certain point, you begin to wonder if Bobby and Helen's addiction to each other is equally as dangerous as their addiction to heroin, because it is clear that despite their devotion to one another, they are really terrible for each other.

The beauty of the film lies in its contradictions--it's brutal yet tender, bleak yet hopeful, uncompromising yet sentimental. Films about drug abuse can often seem either gaudy and exploitive, or simpering and maudlin, but "Panic" straddles the line perfectly, offering an uncompromising portrait of drug addiction while also inviting the viewer to feel empathy, not sympathy or pity, for the characters. You really LIKE these two underdogs. Pacino's Bobby is a real hustler at heart--scrappy, quick on his feet, and impossible to keep down for long, and while Helen is sweet and naive, Winn plays her with a sort of steely resilience and pragmatism that lay beneath her soft exterior, adding a depth to the character. Schatzberg takes his time establishing these characters and their courtship, so when they truly fall into the depths of heroin addiction, the effect is even more heartbreaking.

The city in which Bobby and Helen inhabit is just as detailed as they are. I said that it's a shame that I'm stuck watching this film in low-quality online versions, and this is because "Panic" is full of rich cinematography shot in a cinema verite style that captures the seedy underbelly of 1970s New York in all its sordid glory a la Scorsese or Lumet. The city is populated by a colorful supporting cast of burnt-out dope fiends, tough-talking prostitutes, and undercover cops--yet they all flit on and off the screen, none staying long enough to really flesh out their characters.

Still, "Panic" is not a film without flaws. It's told as a sort of "slice of life" story, which is mostly effective, but sometimes begins to feel pointless or repetitive. When the film stops focusing on Bobby and Helen's romance and more on their drug addiction, the story looses a little bit of both heart and steam and begins to drift, though the heart and steam are rejuvenated in the last thirty minutes or so. Lastly, "Panic" sometimes drifts dangerously close to what I would call "emotional manipulation," i.e. using cheap gimmicks (watch for the scene with the cute puppy) rather than empathetic storytelling to evoke an emotional response from the viewer. Yet despite these flaws, "The Panic in Needle Park" is still one of my favorite films of the 70s, and one that I feel is criminally under-appreciated. It is a film about addiction and a film about romance, and it succeeds admirably on both accounts.