Theo Zenou at The New Statesman:
As far back as he can remember, Martin Scorsese always wanted to be a priest. To him, being a priest was better than being president of the United States. The story goes something like this. Roll sound. Roll camera. Action!
The year was 1953, and the scene was the Little Italy neighbourhood in New York City. Scorsese, 11, lived in a cramped apartment with his parents and older brother. His uncle resided in the same building. His grandparents were just down the street. But outside that warm family cocoon, the world frightened Scorsese. The mean streets of the Lower East Side swarmed with tough guys, loan sharks and swindlers. They stood on street corners, keeping watch, cracking jokes, trading stories. When things got bad, they traded punches. When things got really bad, they traded bullets.
Luckily, Scorsese didn’t have to venture outside too often. Doctor’s orders: he suffered from severe asthma. “I lived a life apart,” he later said. “I felt separate from everyone else.” From his bedroom window, Scorsese looked down, committing everything he saw to memory.
more here.
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