Con man Enrico “Ratso” Rizzo and Texan hustler, Joe Buck, form a rough alliance in order to survive the mean streets of New York. As they kick-start Joe’s hustling career, Ratso’s health begins to deteriorate.
This film is not currently playing on MUBI but 30 other great films are. See what's now showing
35mm, rewatched. A perfect example of an opportunist film, which literally grabs the opportunity of a period for the accumulation of its descriptive effects. Form and fiction are a symbiotic junction of significant waste, to the measure of Dustin Hoffman's invariable demonstrative method. Survives John Voight's immense generosity and freshness, besides a document of a New York definitely gone - as Warhol's fauna.
Dustin Hoffman probably deserved the Oscar for this one, but John Wayne won, because he was the sentimental choice. At the time, many people thought it went too far, but if you look at it now,you wouldn't be wrong in thinking it didn't go far enough. It did win best picture, which pissed off Wayne because he was a bit of a homophobe.
the symbolism, flashbacks ("you're the only one, joe"), and themes are so sickeningly heavy-handed that any sort of attachment you're supposed to feel to voight or hoffman's character(s) is lost. brilliantly stylish but certainly not as moving as it could've been.
A milestone of the 60s cinema re-birth. one way ticket to the decandence and misery of NYC.
Voight and Hoffman are two hustlers with hope, innocence and compassion for each other.
Raw and brutal and yet fascinatingly lyrical.
Midnight Cowboy takes too long to develop its central concept, and never really raises the dramatic stakes, despite the first country-mouse-in-the-big city scenes being quite humorous. It also doesn't truly ever drift into dramatically heart-wrenching material until its final scene, while snippets of flashbacks could be much more clear in how they fit in for pathos and development. Strongly acted by Hoffman, though.
Fantastic character study that is oppressively sad and bleak, but it's also a great time capsule of late 60s NYC. Stunning performances. I fail to see the significance of the ending, and I almost gave this four stars, but what the hell, five because I'm too damn generous.
A film that is more a series of brilliant surfaces, textures and motifs than an entirely satisfying whole. Voight is suitably gauche although Hoffmann’s twitching bag of nervous tics tends to grate. As ever, though, it takes an outsider to see a country clearly, witness the opening travel sequences summating aspects of America in short, swift strokes.