The Drop

There are four main metaphors in Michael Roskam’s The Drop.

1. The title refers to the illicit laundering of underworld money through a bar. It’s how the gang gathers its receipts in a safe secret manner. That makes it a temptation for a robbery, by gunsels stupid enough to take on the Chechnya mafia. But the swaggering characters are also dropped, whether the hapless stooge robbers, the looney sadist Eric Deeds or quiet Cousin Marv, whose unwise ambitions would restore him to his delusions of lost significance. All the fallen bear their scars, though dog Rocco recovers more fully than the so human Nadia. When he’s dropped Deeds learns his street cred was based on Bob’s deed not his.

2. But there can be salvation. In contrast to the fallen, Nadia and Rocco rise from their falls and find redemption, new lives, thanks to the good nature of the — wholly unprepossessing — Bob, whom as the detective finally notes, nobody sees coming. The simplest character proves the most effective, even if he is a faithful Catholic who feels unworthy of communion. He brings others salvation because he expects none himself. The pit bull can survive his abuse — and his breed’s reputation — if someone gives him the chance. Slow Bob does. Bob Saganowski is like a Charles (Buchinski) Bronson hero — under sedation.

3. The opening shot shows the city night reflected in a sidewalk pool. As in Taxi Driver, the image is infernal, providing a reverse view of normalcy. We get similar reversals from the bottom of the barrel collecting the illicit money and from shots of the nefarious lives. The drama reveals the underbelly of our daylight lives.

4. As in that Hell some characters represent Death in Life, the living dead. Literally, Marv’s dad is in an expensive home wired for a vegetable survival. Figuratively, Marv himself feels dead because his life lacks the importance and self-respect he thinks he used to have. In trying to recover his illusory past he burns whatever future he might have had. Nadia retreats from the brutality of her earlier relationship into a wary detachment. She won’t let Bob into her yard till she’s sent photos of his driver’s license to four friends. As if she has any. Her real danger enters and holds without difficulty.  

As Cousin Marv is James Gandolfini’s valedictory role there’s also the counterpoint: Life in Death. The film marks the afterlife of Gandolfini’s persona. His Soprano image enlivens Bob’s recollection of the crew he and Marv had as young men and Marv’s memories of power:"I had something once. I was respected. I was FEARED." (Gandolfini provided a similar frisson of memory in the Broadway production of Yasmina Reza’s God of Carnage.) Though we don't know Tony’s fate we’re shown one possibility when we see Marv’s. Gandolfini is gone but his persona has been freed. 
     With a marvellous script by Dennis Lehane and excellent performances, this is a truly poetic tour of those mean streets down which a man must go. Especially in the Chechins’ Brooklyn.