Dreaming of a more glamorous existence, an idealistic Texas greenhorn (Jon Voight) walks out on his mundane dishwasher's life and hops a bus bound for New York City, certain he'll find instant success as a high-priced gigolo. The city, as always, has different lessons in store. Soon, our cowboy's strapped for cash and out on the street, too soft for the harsh realities of his dream job but too proud to accept anything less. In desperation, he hooks up with a similarly out-of-luck grifter (Dustin Hoffman) and the two develop a chemical bond that sees them through some dangerously lean times, while the busiest metropolis on the planet buzzes and bustles, blissfully oblivious, on the other side of the wall.

Notorious as the first X-rated film to see wide release, _Midnight Cowboy_ earned its reputation with a risqué subject matter, explicit nudity, glamorized drug use and frank depictions of homosexuality (with a whole boatload of associated slurs). A lot of it still seems daring and edgy today, so I can only imagine how it looked to the viewers of 1969. Then again, there's a chance the setting itself adds a thing or two to the modern shock value. This is a real time capsule of a picture, a breathing document of a city that no longer exists, with an emphasis on subcultures and undercurrents that were pushed out of all the glossy framed photos. It's sixties New York, all right, but this particular close-up is more interested in the warts on its subject's nose and the dirt under its fingernails than the carefully-primped clothes and hairstyle it wears to mask the unsightly bits.

The unflattering depiction is fascinating, particularly to someone like me, who didn't live through that era, but the story often plods and telegraphs its intentions, with an unconventional series of flashbacks only further complicating matters. Hoffman and Voight are dynamite together, an unlikely duo whose connection resonates through the smoggy haze, and serve as major boons to a film that could have floundered otherwise.

This is certainly my favourite role from Dustin Hoffman as he turns in an outstanding performance as "Ratso". He hooks up with the dapper, but out of his depth cowboy "Buck" who arrives in New York all set to be a hustler, but ends up paying his first client for the sex she's supposed to pay him for! Initially, "Ratso" fleeces this gullible guy too, but gradually the two start to depend on one and other - which is as well for "Ratso" who is clearly not long for this world. His persistent cough is being worsened by the squalid conditions in which he, and latterly, "Buck" have to live and by their poverty row existence. This is a great story and John Schlesinger tells it with some panache. The relationship between the two men is honest and decent, even though that attribute could hardly be said to apply to either of them when it comes to anyone else: "Ratso" would probably have hustled his own grandmother given the chance. Their bond feels real, plausible - unsentimental and convincing; and the Waldo Salt screenplay ensures that the dialogue - though frequently quite sparing - is both poignant and humorous.

**"I'm walking here! I'm walking here!" Shuffling, perhaps.**


One can always count on Hoffman and his ability to absorb the character he is portraying with such ease. He has a knack at portraying that deep, bronchial coughing schtick. When watching, I had to wear a surgical mask - just in case.

Voight, as usual, is magnificent as the innocent amongst the scum. Watching this wide eyed lone ranger slowly losing the tassels from his jacket is a deeply moving experience.

A word of warning, you may want to use antibacterial wipes on your tv screen after watching Hoffman here. One cannot be too careful.


- Potential Kermode