Autumn belongs to Nora Ephron. As soon as the air gets crisp and the leaves turn, rewatching “When Harry Met Sally” is practically compulsory; turning on “You’ve Got Mail” a reflex. How, after all, can one truly observe the changing of the seasons if not through pining after Harry’s thick, cable-knit cream sweater or the bowler Sally wears to walk in a fiery-leafed Central Park? A bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils, perhaps?
After that, popular culture dictates indulging in “Practical Magic,” “Moonstruck” or “Gilmore Girls.” It’s not a bad instinct. Their sweeping portraits of New York and the northeast in the ’80s through the early 2000s are exceedingly nostalgic. Their stories of love and family a sustaining warmth as the the sun sets earlier and crisp turns toward chill.
But where amidst all of this is the love for “Crossing Delancey“?
“Crossing Delancey” is a romantic comedy about a 33-year-old Jewish woman striving to leave behind the Lower East Side of her bubbe in favor of uptown literati. But try as Isabelle or Izzy (Amy Irving) might, her bubbe (Reizl Bozyk) has other plans. She employs a matchmaker (Sylvia Miles), who introduces Izzy to Sam (Peter Riegert). Sam, a pickle man on Delancey Street, is handsome, hardworking and down-to-earth. He’s nothing like Anton, a renowned — yet self-centered and misogynistic — writer Isabelle worships. Izzy is initially averse to the prospect of being matched and the provincial way (in her view) Sam lives. Time and again, she returns to Anton’s orbit, unable to reconcile Sam’s affections and Anton’s clear want to make her his sexed-up secretary.
In the end though, Izzy cannot help but to be charmed by Sam. They embrace in the closing moments of the film. “I was so happy I was gonna see you tonight I made a special bracha for the occasion,” Sam tells Izzy, tears welling in her eyes. “I said the prayer for the planting of new trees. Don’t ask me why.”
“Crossing Delancey” is intoxicating. The tension between Izzy and Sam rides the air in Joan Micklin Silver‘s film; and it diffuses far past the screen, letting the viewer inhale its sensuousness. The bouquet melds the crispness of new books, lavender and milk, Delancey street in the early morning, vats of pickles and vinegar, wax on the Westside YMCA gym floor, the earthiness of Essex Market and Kiddush wine. This aroma lingers on color shots of Schapiro’s Kosher Wines, Zelig Blumenthal, a Hasidic child savoring a pastry on the gate of the Delancey Street subway stop. It would be impossible to feel the movie so strongly if it were not for its specificity to New York and its Jewish institutions in the mid-’80s.
The quick humor is only additive to this emotional resonance. While there’s no “I’ll have what she’s having” moment, Susan Sandler’s script doesn’t need one. A bubbe self-defense class and the concept of a traditional bris for a baby named Bart are as ridiculous as they are anchors in time, while Izzy rebuffing Anton’s claim that he “felt a kinship” with “You felt an administrative need!” is a punchy triumph for our heroine.
So why has “Crossing Delancey” had a slighter cultural impact than “When Harry Met Sally“? Perhaps it’s that Amy Irving and Peter Riegert don’t have the same Hollywood cachet as Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan, nor do Joan Micklin Silver and Susan Sandler compared to Nora Ephron and Rob Reiner. Maybe, I roll my eyes to admit, it’s that the Jewish influence in “When Harry Met Sally” is not quite as overt in “Crossing Delancey,” making it more relatable to a wider audience.
But as Sam tells Izzy, a change in perspective can be everything. I contend it’s more than time that pop culture sensibility, if only briefly, replaces Sally’s bowler with Izzy’s Stetson. What new joys this brings, as Izzy finds, could very well surprise us.
“Crossing Delancey” is available to rent on Amazon.
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