I told one of my film classes years ago that Vittorio De Sica's BICYCLE THIEVES was one movie that could never be remade in America since it was so specific to its time and place. After watching the film, one student astutely said, "Well, what about PEE-WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE?" I laughed and had to admit he was right, but added, "Burton's film is a humorous parody, especially with a cartoon figure like Pee-wee Herman, but it can't touch me the same way as the original." Another student, Jason De Leon, told me some time later that he was thinking of remaking BICYCLE THIEVES but with a contemporary setting in a suburb of Houston. It would be based on some events from his own life.
Now he has completed that remake as THE ALCHEMY OF THIEVES. It is really beautifully realized and actually works. Sinister and suspenseful music by Austin's Ghostland Observatory opens the film as we are introduced to Gabe, a suspicious-looking white boy wearing gloves and sunglasses and walking through suburban streets until he comes to the address written on his wrist, 2110. Undeterred by the closed electric garage door in front, he kicks his way through a back door and rides off on a bike. The victim of that theft, adolescent Peter, is then introduced to us. While the loss of his bike doesn't have the same resonance as in De Sica's heart-rending postwar film, in which the family's livelihood totally depends on Antonio having a bike to get from job to job, this white kid in suburban Houston isn't exactly having an easy life either. He lives with his very unsympathetic, doubtlessly overworked business-mom, who has little time or inclination to listen to the boy's problems, including the theft of his very expensive Shaun White bike, a gift from a family friend. Instead, she drops him off at his shitty job at a restaurant where his snarky boss yells at him for his tardiness and less-than- perfect hygiene. He would be fired were it not for the fact that Peter's mom and the restaurant owner Skeeter are "friends" (quotation marks courtesy of the sarcastic, insinuating manager). Katie, another worker at the restaurant, seems to sympathize with Peter's loss and offers him a ride home when his mom doesn't show up. Instead, Peter walks the long distance home, and along the way he follows in Antonio's 1948 missteps.
And what of the expensive bike? Unlike De Sica's film, which suggests the identity of the thief, but makes him untouchable because of his fierce mother and very loud neighbors, De Leon's film lets us get to know Gabe, the young thief, and his fence/weed dealer Ricky, an African American teen adopted by a couple who leave him alone in a palatial home, where he can conduct his array of criminal activities. We soon learn that he has a posse of kids out on the prowl for things to steal in exchange for weed, either by assignment or by whim. That's how we meet smart-ass peewee Droog, who may be the most amoral of the group. Well, no, there is a little surprise in the coda which pulls the entire story together in a very clever way.
The acting by the young performers is all pitch-perfect, due in large part to De Leon's direction. The cinematography is very crisp and colorful and perfectly captures Houston's suburban views. The editing for this short film is sharp and provides a perfect structure of parallel events tied together through the stolen bike.
Jason De Leon rightly credits Cesare Zavattini and Vittorio De Sica (the screenwriter and director of BICYCLE THIEVES respectively), but the only reason I am in the credits is because I said, "It can't be done." I am really glad that THE ALCHEMY OF THIEVES proves me wrong.
Now he has completed that remake as THE ALCHEMY OF THIEVES. It is really beautifully realized and actually works. Sinister and suspenseful music by Austin's Ghostland Observatory opens the film as we are introduced to Gabe, a suspicious-looking white boy wearing gloves and sunglasses and walking through suburban streets until he comes to the address written on his wrist, 2110. Undeterred by the closed electric garage door in front, he kicks his way through a back door and rides off on a bike. The victim of that theft, adolescent Peter, is then introduced to us. While the loss of his bike doesn't have the same resonance as in De Sica's heart-rending postwar film, in which the family's livelihood totally depends on Antonio having a bike to get from job to job, this white kid in suburban Houston isn't exactly having an easy life either. He lives with his very unsympathetic, doubtlessly overworked business-mom, who has little time or inclination to listen to the boy's problems, including the theft of his very expensive Shaun White bike, a gift from a family friend. Instead, she drops him off at his shitty job at a restaurant where his snarky boss yells at him for his tardiness and less-than- perfect hygiene. He would be fired were it not for the fact that Peter's mom and the restaurant owner Skeeter are "friends" (quotation marks courtesy of the sarcastic, insinuating manager). Katie, another worker at the restaurant, seems to sympathize with Peter's loss and offers him a ride home when his mom doesn't show up. Instead, Peter walks the long distance home, and along the way he follows in Antonio's 1948 missteps.
And what of the expensive bike? Unlike De Sica's film, which suggests the identity of the thief, but makes him untouchable because of his fierce mother and very loud neighbors, De Leon's film lets us get to know Gabe, the young thief, and his fence/weed dealer Ricky, an African American teen adopted by a couple who leave him alone in a palatial home, where he can conduct his array of criminal activities. We soon learn that he has a posse of kids out on the prowl for things to steal in exchange for weed, either by assignment or by whim. That's how we meet smart-ass peewee Droog, who may be the most amoral of the group. Well, no, there is a little surprise in the coda which pulls the entire story together in a very clever way.
The acting by the young performers is all pitch-perfect, due in large part to De Leon's direction. The cinematography is very crisp and colorful and perfectly captures Houston's suburban views. The editing for this short film is sharp and provides a perfect structure of parallel events tied together through the stolen bike.
Jason De Leon rightly credits Cesare Zavattini and Vittorio De Sica (the screenwriter and director of BICYCLE THIEVES respectively), but the only reason I am in the credits is because I said, "It can't be done." I am really glad that THE ALCHEMY OF THIEVES proves me wrong.