The Only Living Pickpocket in New York (2026) Review

There’s a shot in the opening sequence of Noah Segan’s latest crime-drama that perfectly captures what I take to be the emotional core of the story: after pick-pocketing someone, Harry discovers the man didn’t keep cash in his wallet. It’s a portrait of a man in a city that increasingly has less space for him, a sentiment that becomes even clearer once he picks the wrong pocket and finds himself racing against time to save his wife. Despite its compelling ingredients, though, the film ultimately fails to develop its characters in a way that makes its by-the-numbers plot feel fresh.

The film offers several examples of how New York is changing, but even these feel cliché. Steve Buscemi, playing the owner of a sketchy pawn shop, complains about how confusing emails are, while Harry repeatedly bemoans the younger generation’s screen addiction. But because their technical illiteracy is never challenged by the plot, the characters feel more like caricatures than people. Rather than having them reckon with a rapidly changing environment, Buscemi’s more tech-savvy granddaughter saves the day in a later-revealed flashback (the laziest of all endings!). The older generation thus retains its dignity without having to change. How convenient.

More bizarrely, the film seems to equate an ‘old school’ approach to life with moral virtue, whereas the younger, more technologically adept antagonists are portrayed as sociopathic narcissists. There’s a kind of simplicity in how the film defines generations by their relationship with technology; and that simplicity doesn’t seem to ring true since young people comprise the majority of physical media collectors and AI-critics. I’m all for a film critiquing modernity’s overreliance on digitization, but its characters lack the specificity necessary to ground that critique in anything more than nostalgia, even if that nostalgia is photographed beautifully.

Evoking the wistful reminiscence of its protagonist, the film’s pronounced grain structure gives its images the texture of old photographs, drawing on its themes of memory (and the sweaty 70s crime thrillers that so clearly inspired the aesthetic). There’s also a warmth to how the city was shot which is reflected in the lighting and color grading, making the city itself a character. Its buzzing avenues are brought to life with a jazzy score and nice-enough sound design. Despite the affectionate framing, though, it feels melancholic when considered alongside Harry's yearning for years passed. In this way, the visual language does a better job than the expositional dialogue when it comes to capturing thematic concerns, even if the actors tried their best to breathe life into said dialogue.

John Turturro has been one of Hollywood’s most beloved character actors for years, but sadly, this wasn’t the opportunity to show off his chops that I was hoping for. He does a great job of bringing a morose sensitivity to Harry, conveying the weight of his circumstances (alienated children, a terminally ill wife for whom he’s the sole caretaker, etc.), but the script doesn’t explore any of this, opting instead to focus on the more conventional trappings of the crime thriller. It doesn’t help that he’s surrounded by performances that feel rather phoned in, including Jamie Lee Curtis at her flattest in recent memory. If nothing else, Will Price makes for a compelling antagonist, bringing a physicality to the role that lends his character a genuine sense of menace.

I honestly wanted to like this film more than I did. The generational divide it’s trying to capture is real, but there’s more nuance than the script makes room for, causing the characters to feel more like caricatures. While the film is often beautiful to look at, the dialogue overemphasizes themes that are already present in its visuals, making the whole thing feel heavy-handed. Despite its lofty aim to explore an aging con at the end of his rope, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York ultimately leaves us with the feeling that we’re the ones being had.