Boring

When a movie has you begging for it to end not even half way through it's pure crap. We've all seen this movie and this characters millions of times, nothing new in it. Don't waste your time.

Funny, strange, confrontational and subversive, this is one of the most interesting experiences you'll have at the cinema this year.

An old-fashioned movie made with new-fashioned finesse.

. . . AFTER HOURS must have seemed like pure drivel. This tedious sequel to MEAN STREETS seems to drag on aimlessly for two or three times its length by the clock. If mentioned in the same breath with THE RAGING BULL or TAXI DRIVER, film students would bet their bottom wooden nickel that director Martin Scorsese had suffered a stroke or lobotomy (perhaps both!) prior to releasing AFTER HOURS. But it's said that Warner Bros. works in Mysterious Ways, and we now know that America's Extreme Early Warning System was actually focusing its far-sighted energies upon providing a cautionary AFTER HOURS tale for We Citizens of (The Then) Far Future. Serial woman-abusing snoop deadbeat "Paul Hackett" is NOT foretelling the upcoming misdeeds of Bill Cosby (too pale), Bill Clinton (too Northern), or Harvey Weinstein (too thin). No, it's clear that Manhattanite Paul--with his mangled hair-do, unwillingness to pay cab or subway fares, and misogynistic woman-hopping ways--represents none other than the Bane of Modern America, Manhattanite Don Juan Rump, as Rump was then, is now, and ever will be. The last third of AFTER HOURS is more of a personal warning to Master Rump himself, as a lynch mob of wised-up citizens pursues his stand-in Paul to deliver long overdue Justice!

A minor work from Scorsese, but remarkably underrated. This mid-80s film is an exercise of style and pure filmmaking from a director who was frustrated when his passion project was delayed again and again. Instead of letting his own disappointments absorb him, he focused all his energy in this low-budget dark comedy about one man's incredibly disappointing and ill-fated night in the SoHo neighborhood of Manhattan. Working with skillful German cinematographer Michael Ballhaus (a frequent collaborator of R.W. Fassbinder), the film was shot at night with a feeling of strange perplexity and a sense of paranoia that had occupied not only the effective actor Griffin Dunne but also the viewers, using crafty camera improvisations to make that effect.The film is thoroughly engaging and it works like a dream – it has no intention of explaining itself, and as the title suggests; it is meant to be watched after midnight.

Late one night, Paul Hackett meets a girl, Marcy, in a diner. She gives him her phone number and later that night he calls her. She invites him over to her place, which is across town. At her place things don't quite work out and Paul decides to go home. However, he has no money for cab or train fare and things are about to get very weird, leading to a situation where his life is in danger.One of Martin Scorsese's least-known movies, and there's a reason for that. It is not that good. It had potential, as a quirky comedy or an intense drama, but it's these very possibilities that doom it to failure. Instead of picking one of the two courses and sticking with it, Scorsese tries to have a bet each way, making it a quirky comedy with deadly serious thriller aspects to it too, and the two sides don't gel (how could they, possibly?). Difficult to view it seriously as a thriller, when you have these comedic moments. Difficult to laugh when the danger may be real. This conflict makes for an uneven experience.Not funny enough to be a good comedy (though there are some good moments), not intense enough to be a good drama. The comedy itself mostly revolves around trying to throw as many wacky characters and situations into the mix as possible, and this gets rather tiresome, rather quickly.The adventure that befalls Paul Hackett is quite a roller-coaster ride though, and it is this ceaseless momentum that prevents the movie from being total waste of time. Ending is quite poetic too.

This is much more like a Jim Jarmusch film then one from Martin Scorese. Quirky, absurd, surreal, basically plot-less. A random guy meets several attractive women, one after the other, all in one night, who invite him to their homes, and he proceeds to verbally assault each of them for no particular reason--one of them even commits suicide as a result. As a result of several strange coincidences, everyone is Soho is trying to kill him, but it seems to me that he deserves it for the way he treated the women. Yes, mildly amusing, but my time would be have been better spent reading a good book. A "C" is the best grade I can give it.