The film watches Charlie as he uneasily tries to reconcile his various worlds. He works as a collector for Giovanni, hearing the sad story of a restaurant owner who has no money. Charlie is being groomed to run the restaurant, but must obey Giovanni, who forbids him to associate with Johnny Boy (“honorable men go with honorable men”) and with Teresa, whose epilepsy is equated in Giovanni’s mind with madness.
Trouble is brewing because Johnny Boy owes money to Michael, who is growing increasingly unhappy about his inability to collect. De Niro plays Johnny almost as a holy fool: a smiling jokester with no sense of time or money, and a streak of self-destruction. The first time we see him in the film, he blows up a corner mailbox. Why? No reason. De Niro and Keitel have a scene in the bar’s back room that displays the rapport these two actors would carry through many movies. Charlie is earnest, frightened, telling Johnny he has to pay the money. Johnny launches on a rambling, improvised cock-and-bull story about a poker game, a police raid, a fight--finally even losing the thread himself.
Scorsese first displayed his distinctive style in his first feature, “I Call First / Who's That Knocking at My Door?,” which was also set in Little Italy and also starred Keitel. In both films he uses a hand-held camera for scenes of quick movement and fights, and scores everything with period rock ‘n’ roll music (a familiar tactic now, but unheard of in 1967).
The style is displayed joyously in “Mean Streets” as Charlie and friends go to collect from a pool hall owner, who is happy to pay. But then Johnny Boy is called a “mook,” and although nobody seems quite sure what a mook is, that leads to a wild, disorganized fight. These are not smooth stuntmen, slamming each other in choreographed action, but uncoordinated kids in their 20s who smoke too much, drink too much, and fight as if they don’t want to get their shirts torn. The camera pursues them around the room, and Johnny Boy leaps onto a pool table, awkwardly practicing the karate kicks he’s learned in 42nd Street grind houses; on the soundtrack is “Please Mr. Postman” by the Marvelettes. Scorsese’s timing is acute: Cops barge in to break up the fight, are paid off by the pool hall owner, leave, and then another tussle breaks out.
Underlying everything is Charlie’s desperation. He loves Johnny and Teresa, but is forbidden to see them. He tries to be tough with Teresa, but lacks the heart. His tenderness toward Johnny Boy is shown in body language (hair tousling, back-slapping) and in a scene where Johnny is on the roof, “shooting out the light in the Empire State Building.” Charlie essentially feels bad about everything he does; his self-hatred colors every waking thought.
At one point, late in the film, he goes into the bar, orders scotch and holds his fingers over the glass as the bartender pours, copying the position of the priest’s fingers over the chalice. That kind of sacramental detail would also be a motif in “Taxi Driver,” where overhead shots mirror the priest’s-eye-view of the altar, and the hero also places his hand in a flame. Everything leads, as it must, to the violent conclusion, in which Michael, the loan shark who feels insulted, drives while a gunman (Scorsese) fires in revenge. Who can be surprised that Charlie, after the shooting, is on his knees?
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