Terrible acting, screenplay and direction.

Please don't spend money on this.

There are moments in this movie where the great movie it could've been peek out... They're fleeting, here, but they're worth savoring, and they happen often enough to make it worth your while.

Exactly the movie you think it is, but not the movie you want it to be.

Does anyone remember or know the name of the Trailer or Movie preview, or Short or Skit that was shown before the actual movie Fingers began playing in the theater? I remember couples as contestants on a game show, at one point they were naked, then they were farting back and forth. It was pretty funny from what I remember. Maybe it was X rated? I don't know, I was a kid and I remember me and my friend were taken there by his older brother who snuk us in that's why we had access. It may not have been X rated, I only suggest that due to the nudity - this was 1978. I have no idea how to track it down. Internet searches based on descriptions of a nude farting game show proved futile. If someone knows the name or remembers what it was from, please comment I only have a foggy memory of it and that it was damn funny, a lost gem. Thank-you, JOHN

A dour character study featuring what may very well be Harvey Keitel's best performance. Keitel is a would-be concert pianist torn between the world of art and crime. His institutionalized mother wants him to play Carnegie Hall, while his father, a low-life Mafioso, wants him to continue as his bag man. Keitel's performance here is ferocious. He's sensitive and clearly artistic while at the same time ruthlessly (and violently) loyal to his father. In the end, all he wants is love and without it he can't respond to anything or anyone, including his would-be girlfriend (Tisa Farrow). Writer-director James Toback has had a spotty directing career over the years and has yet to fulfill the promise he displays here. Though there's limited action and only a few (brutal) spurts of violence, FINGERS is extremely exciting, harnessed by Keitel's brilliance. The strong supporting cast includes Michael V. Gazzo as Keitel's father, Jim Brown as a very nasty pimp, Danny Aiello, Marian Seldes, Tanya Roberts and Dominic Chianese in a very unlikely role. Filmed in New York with great cinematography by Michael Chapman.

This late 70s film is nicely filmed and looks very good. Now, if I were going to follow the adage of "if you can't say something nice, say nothing at all", there would nothing else I could say about Fingers. Since I'm something of a bitter prick, there's a whole lot more to this review. This aimless mess is fully of caricaturish performances and scenes that look like outtakes accidentally left in the movie. When watching it, I frequently couldn't believe what writer/director James Toback was offering to me on screen and spent much of the last half of Fingers laughing at the gaudy, overwrought, nonsensical nature of it.Jimmy (Harvey Keitel) is a man in his late 20s who desperately wants to be a concert pianist. He practices relentlessly and childishly mouths along with the notes as he plays. Jimmy is also an obviously disturbed young man with an explosive temper and a needy desire for the opposite sex. He's got a mother in a mental ward and a father who's a loan shark. This story concerns the thoroughly disconnected strands of Jimmy getting a chance to audition for Carnegie Hall, his fixation on a woman he sees out on the street one day and his father asking Jimmy to collect on two outstanding debts. Along the way we see a scuffle over Jimmy's 1970s purse-sized portable radio and cassette player, a rectal exam, a bathroom sexual encounter that resembles a man trying to squeeze under a limbo bar and football great Jim Brown portraying the forerunner of South Park's Chef.This film is just ridiculous. It appears to be an middle class take on a Taxi Driver-ish breakdown with an undercurrent of homosexuality thrown in, but it's so meandering and parts of it are so exaggerated that it's hard to know for sure. There are moments in this movie that come out of nowhere and then vanish back into oblivion. The three separate plot threads are so fragmented and halting it's as if the script were written longhand by someone with Parkinson's disease. It's kind of difficult to accurately describe Fingers because there are so many odd moments that are played completely seriously when they actually belong in the gag reel as the end of one of Burt Reynolds' Cannonball Run movies. I mean, writer/director Toback literally spends the better part of a minute showing a couple of white chicks sucking on Jim Brown's nipples. What do you say about that?Harvey Keitel is…well, Harvey Keitel and yes, he does end up naked at one point looking into the camera with a "What do you want me to do about it?" look on his face. He does a nice job with the symptoms of Jimmy's personality disorders but there's nothing whole or coherent about the role he was given. Tisa Farrow as the woman Jimmy's obsessed with speaks and moves in a monotone. As for the rest of the cast, all you can do is play "Spot the future member of The Sopranos".When talented creators do crappy work, their admirers often feel compelled to pretend otherwise. That's about the only explanation I can come up with for why this thing made it to DVD. It's astonishingly poor storytelling put to no good use.

Well, Reservoir Dogs fans, if you've been wondering really where the film is where Mr. White plays Mr. Blonde, this might be it. Only don't expect the same form of psychopathic behavior. Keitel's Jimmy Fingers is a sort of time bomb at times needing to be either detonated or waiting to be set off, and there's even an echo too (or rather the other movie is an echo of this) in Do the Right Thing. But James Toback's script is very particular about his various, half annoying half dangerous tendencies carrying around a radio and a knack for classical music and grit. And Keitel moves in this world like a man so within his own mind that the only way he can act sometimes is in bottling it up before it comes out. It's a very tough performance to pull off, as there's more fascination in what the character completely lacks than in his virtues. It's sometimes teeters even on becoming very uncomfortable to sit through, just in the psychological sense. We may not hate Jimmy Fingers, but he can test patience like it's nothing.Still, Keitel makes it such a character of idiosyncrasies and at the same time a weird kind of charm that at first sort of reminded me of his debut in Who's That Knocking at My Door. He's aiming for concert pianist, of the level on Carnegie Hall standards. But his father also has him collecting/making bets, and thus getting into things of a sometimes violent and ugly nature. And there's always that radio, blasting out the 'golden oldies' of the kind they used to play on CBS FM in New York. There's even a touch of the Brando-type character in Keitel's mood and mannerisms at times, plus that compulsory sexual nature with women. Towards the end of the film this becomes almost too perverse to handle, and Toback always deals with such dicey material head-on, without pulling any tricks with the camera (in fact, he only so occasionally moves it). While the filmmaker tests the waters with possibly become unnerving and off-its-hinges with watching such unconventional material, more or less he pulls off what he wants, and Keitel is a force to be reckoned with as an actor here. He may lack the realistic volcanic force and wit of a Mr. White, but the not-totally-sadistic Mr. Blonde comes out with just a great hint of the obsessed artist in there too (and what great music there is).In terms of referring to the 2005 French remake, the Beat That My Heart Skipped, I found that it might be one of those rare cases where the remake does out-do the original, at least in terms of dramatic involvement and in really getting more into the relationship between the father and son (plus there was more ambiguity in terms of the young man's mind state in the French version). But Fingers still holds its own decades later by standing out in the crime genre of the period, and it's up there in Keitel's underrated cannon of work.