I kinda like it when movies are of their time, if for no other reason than because they tend to serve as effective time capsules, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a more 1980 movie than this. Times Square is caught right between the seedy, rebellious angst of the '70s and the poppy sellout excess of the '80s, and the result is something of a sweet-yet-sleazy punk fairy tale, one that showcases the allure of New York City without ever glamorizing it.
Granted, it's all pretty trivial and aimless and nonsensical, with large swaths of the runtime consumed by a whole lotta nothing, but I suppose "aimless" and "nonsensical" are quite apt for a story about adolescent frustration. And even if the uglier and messier qualities don't always feel completely intentional, this is one of those cases where the shoddy cheapness still contributes to the overall mood and attitude. I mean, that's essentially the whole appeal of punk in the first place, right?
Plus, on the rare occasions where the movie manages to combine its gritty street photography with that fantastic soundtrack and Robin Johnson's superbly believable performance, it reaches near-documentary-levels of authentic.
Grade: B
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