Reviewed by Glenn Erickson
An amusing light comedy, The Deli presents a cross section of Brooklynese characters that
are easy to like and fun to watch. They go through some undemanding sitcom turns but are
interesting enough to both keep our attention and to make us care about them. The main character
is a loveable prize fool. Overall the picture is a collection of isolated routines with guest
actors wandering into the deli for vignettes. Many don't advance the story, and the ending seems
solved too easily without enough dramatic or comedic interaction between the characters. But for a
generous sampling of interesting and fun characters, it's hard to go wrong here.
Even better, the denizens of this corner of Brooklyn don't talk a blue streak of profanity.
Maybe that's unrealistic, but it's a lot easier on the ears than your average Do the Right
Thing knockoff.
The independent production was reportedly well-received at festivals but didn't attract a major
release; it did well on cable and looks exceedingly handsome on this Synapse DVD.
Synopsis:
Johnny (Mike Starr) runs a friendly deli with the dependable Andy (Matt Keeslar)
and the brain-challenged Pinky (Brian Vincent) behind the counter and his mother (Judith Malina)
coming in to check the sauce and micro-manage his life. But there's this teeny gambling problem.
Johnny regularly makes bets with store funds and he's been telling his mother that he bets on
her lucky number every week when he instead squanders her cash on dumb wagers. Now he's up to
his neck and further with loan sharks, and his regular vendors are putting pressure on him. While
a constant stream of eccentrics comes to give Pinky grief, and pretty girls come to bat their eyes
at Andy, Johnny falls into real trouble - his Mom's number hits, he has no money down on it, and
she's expecting a windfall of 16 thousand dollars. The solution ... an even riskier bet that will
probably mean he'll lose the store.
It's all familiar stuff - the local nobody bets a lot of money he doesn't have and the only way to
keep his store, save his mother from a heart attack and not have to kill himself is to win an
even riskier bet. That weak story hook is the only one in sight, but The Deli populates
the screen with enough fun characters to keep things rolling nicely.
Mike Starr's Johnny is a huge man with an innocent face, addicted to gambling and in heavy denial
about it. His mother lectures him on the subject while betting on the side but at least she's betting
money she has. Starr's been in interesting small parts since 1980, usually as a lummox in gangster
pix like Goodfellas and Miller's Crossing; he got a nice break as a reporter in
The Hudsucker Proxy. Here he gets to be loveable, an excellent choice.
The most sensible character behind the counter is Andy, the even-tempered girl magnet. Matt Keeslar
has had an excellent run, appearing in Waiting for Guffman, Splendor,
Steven King's Rose Red and the
television version of
Dune as Feyd-Rautha.
Brian Vincent's role is a bit too exaggerated for comfort, but he does do some nice schtick as a
completely imbecilic guy you wouldn't trust to walk your dog. He gets some of the best lines though,
taking everything that's said literally. He develops a screwy little relationship with
a fellow dimwit played by the very welcome Heather Matarazzo of Welcome to the Dollhouse.
Debi Mazar (Goodfellas, Bullets over Broadway) is Heather's older sister and the
girlfriend of a wiseguy (Frank Vincent); their arguments are some of the best moments in the movie.
Judith Malina is a wonderful mother for the show; she's far more animated than when she played
Granma in The Addams Family ten years earlier, and she looks younger too! She lays on the
Italian mama act nice and thick, but the tension she and Mike Starr generate is what holds the
film together.
Of the other cameo bits, Ice-T is a standout playing completely in character and bringing
substantial subtlety and flair to the role of an irate meat salesman. David Johansen's two brief bits
are more typical - effective, but completely unrelated to the forward motion of the movie. Likewise
the other goons and gals who wander in, often only once, to deliver some semi-improv silliness. All
the girls are drop-dead beautiful but nothing seems to come of any of their sub-plots; Andy's steady
girl just complains about never seeing him and we get a lot of unresolved flirting with the big
mobster's knockout daughter.
Jerry Stiller, Tony Sirico and Burt young make a nice triumvirate of hoods who threaten Johnny
and gloat over his misfortune, but the unambitious screenplay doesn't use them enough. Perhaps they were
all one-day players, but the film's conclusion doesn't even establish their reactions to the result of
Johnny's wild bet, and we're left hanging with most of the thin story threads unresolved. A bit more
structure and The Deli could have been a much more effective story instead of a pleasant
springboard for a lot of talented actors. The great achievement of this film should be awarded to
casting director Judy Henderson, or whoever was responsible for rounding up this bunch. There's even
a small bit for Shirley Stoler, our favorite from
Miami Blues and
The Honeymoon Killers. It's her last
film.
Synapse's DVD of The Deli presents John Gallagher's movie quite well. The enhanced transfer
gives the limited-setup picture a good look, and only one scene has the flaw of a slight instability,
and then only for a few seconds. The audio is Dolby Digital mono which is a shame considering the
eclectic and effective musical bits used from old soundtracks, like Nino Rota's Il Bidone.
The extras include a commentary from the director (who also provides a couple of liner note essays, one
about hiring Ice-T) and a selection of deleted scenes.
If you like New York-based comedy and want to see a great cast go through some nice semi-improvised
scenes, The Deli will be a satisfying picture.
On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor,
The Deli rates:
Movie: Good
Video: Excellent
Sound: Very Good
Supplements: Commentary, deleted scenes, notes
Packaging: Keep case
Reviewed: July 7, 2004
DVD Savant Text © Copyright 2007 Glenn Erickson
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