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Bringing Out The Dead (1999)


Martin Scorsese – Bringing Out The Dead (1999)

New York. Lights. Neon lights. Flashing ads. Skyscrapers. Blocks, some better, some worse. An ambulance. Wet asphalt reflecting the neon glow and Van Morrison’s T.B. Sheets…

    “The night started out with a bang! A gunshot to the chest. Drug deal gone bad.”

Paul Schrader is once again in his element as screenwriter in Bringing Out the Dead, based on Joe Connelly’s novel and directed by Martin Scorsese. The film is a depiction of the often hellish everyday life of paramedics, and what it takes to endure it. Joe Connelly, who wrote the book, spent nine years working in the EMS in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen. Both Scorsese and Cage spent time on actual paramedic calls in NYC as part of their preparation for the film.

Nicolas Cage’s character, Frank, has problems—or rather, they all do (the paramedics). Frank is haunted by inner ghosts, former patients—especially the ones who didn’t make it—who begin to manifest in his daily life. They appear on street corners or beside lamp posts, wherever they feel like positioning themselves. Frank tries to come to terms with them, make some kind of internal reckoning, or maybe he simply carries the guilt of their deaths. In his fragile state, Frank sometimes talks to the dead. His eyes dark from exhaustion, his mind fraying at the edges.

Above all, Bringing Out the Dead is a showcase for its cast—an ensemble piece, even if Cage carries the lead role with stylish intensity. Tom (Tom Sizemore) seems like he’s been helping himself to more than just aspirin from the med bag. Larry (John Goodman) goes with the flow and doesn’t stress—except, maybe, about his Chicken Lo Mein. Marcus, played by Ving Rhames, is a paramedic-slash-preacher who prays loudly in the name of the Lord, promising to bring overdose victims back from the dead—while Frank quietly slips Narcan into the patient’s vein. Patricia Arquette plays ex-junkie Mary, whose father Frank desperately tries to save.

Cinematographer Robert Richardson once again delivers a strong and visually compelling film. Known for his work on Platoon, Natural Born Killers, and Casino, and later on with Tarantino, Richardson’s visuals fit the film’s tone perfectly. Scorsese’s long-time editor Thelma Schoonmaker adds a sense of chaos and sharp rhythm, just what a film like this needs.

Of course, the film leans into the darker side of life and the raw, brutal reality of urban existence. But what stands out is its relentless, deadpan black humor, woven in here and there. New York appears at times almost magical, glowing in neon and reflections—and at other times like a version of hell on earth, full of drunks, addicts, madmen, and violence. The same can be said of the hospital ERs: when they’re full, they’re full.

Despite all this, the film isn’t entirely nihilistic or hopeless. Frank’s voiceover reflects, questions, evaluates—both himself and the world around him. One could view the film through a sociopolitical lens, but Scorsese never underlines the message too heavily. Still, it’s clear: not everything is in great shape. In Dog We Trust!

    “I’m sick, Tom! I need a care. Vitamin B-cocktail, ampoule of glucose and a drop of adrenaline. Not as good as beer! But it’s all I got!”

In many ways, Bringing Out the Dead is a successful piece of work—and for me, it’s nowhere near the bottom of Scorsese’s filmography. Although Joe Connelly’s novel was a bestseller in the U.S., the film itself didn’t manage to make much impact commercially. A shame.

Bringing Out the Dead is chaotic, erratic, and fierce. It shows what it needs to show, but with intriguing casting and shifts in tone, it becomes a surprisingly well-balanced and compelling film.

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