Whose misguided decision was it to make Robert De Niro's character a complete creep throughout this picture? Playing an impatient, hot-headed saxophone player in New York City on VJ Day, De Niro meets lovely Liza Minnelli at a party; she turns out to be a talented songbird, yet his jealousy and paranoia quickly puts their musical romance on the rocks. You have to laugh at some of De Niro's over-the-top stupidities (the movie would be a real downer if you didn't), yet director Martin Scorsese doesn't provide enough relief from De Niro's outbursts. "New York, New York" is certainly handsome enough, and the songs (chestnuts and new additions) are terrific, but the plot builds no momentum and Liza's love-interest comes off as somewhat masochistic. Who would stay with this guy so long? Heavy-handed, heavy-going movie has the feeling of an expensive experiment, and Scorsese at times appears to be winging it with his leads. Minnelli searches in vain for a tighter direction, and she doesn't look comfortable with dramatic improvisation (her song numbers were probably carefully planned out, and in these instances she shines). The finale is moving--almost in spite of itself--and the picture may actually have something to say about abusive relationships and letting go. There are moments of heartbreak and passion, but just as many scenes with nothing but flailing about. **1/2 from ****
Review of New York, New York
