A stunning, if raggedy, feature debut from Martin Scorsese, Who’s That Knocking at My Door has much of what you might expect given the career that followed: a dynamic camera, Thelma Schoonmaker’s experimental editing, tough-guy patter, and plenty of 1960s rock and pop (including the title song, performed by The Genies). But there’s also an ingredient that may be surprising. Almost all of Scorsese’s films interrogate masculinity in some way, but few zero in on masculine misogyny with as much precision as he does here. Harvey Keitel plays J.R., a crime- and Catholic-adjacent charmer who begins a romance with a woman from outside his tight-knit neighborhood (Zina Bethune). Keitel is loose and fun, then frightening when J.R.’s insecurities and prejudices come flooding out. Bethune, who would go on to have a long career in television, gathers strength as the movie goes on and is downright heroic in their final confrontation. Who’s That Knocking at My Door is a tragedy in the sense that J.R. seems capable of recognizing there is a world beyond crime, booze, and “broads.” (On a day trip to the country, he bathes in the “beauty,” while his hoodlum friend says, “I don’t understand.”) Yet the perception of women that has been ingrained in him can’t be easily discarded. This is especially the case when Bethune’s (unnamed) character proves to be more complex than the virgin-whore dynamic J.R. has been taught, by both his buddies and the church. Perhaps J.R.’s tension represents something similar felt by Scorsese—the sickly Catholic kid who observed these sorts of guys on the streets of his own neighborhood, probably wanted to be like them to some degree, but was also drawn to the emotions and beauty of the Archers’ films he would watch on TV. Given its lived-in vitality, Who’s That Knocking at My Door makes such a personal reading entirely plausible.
(8/8/24)
