Little Fugitive (1953)

Coney Island Baby Steps - Little Fugitive review by griggs

A few weeks ago I spent a day at Coney Island, or at least the modern, slightly haunted version of it. The beach was almost deserted, apart from a handful of hardy souls pretending it was warmer than it was, and a few power walkers storming down the boardwalk like they had a train to catch. I wanted to understand the mythology of the place: the fairground lights, the seaside escape, the idea that New York could briefly become Blackpool with better hot dogs.

That probably made Little Fugitive land better than it might have done otherwise. You can feel why it mattered. The camera follows this kid through Coney Island with a looseness that still feels fresh: no grand speeches, no heavy plotting, just a small child getting lost in a big, noisy world.

I’m glad I watched it, especially as one of those films that helped nudge cinema towards the French New Wave. But admiration only gets you so far. There’s a Saturday morning kids club wholesomeness to it that kept me at arm’s length, and after a while the wandering becomes less charming and more, well, wandering.

Still, as a snapshot of a vanished Coney Island, it has real magic. More fascinating than lovable, but absolutely worth seeing.