John Turturro, as professional pickpocket Harry Lehman in Noah Segan’s wistful noir “The Only Living Pickpocket in New York,” seems like he’s lived many lives. He strolls the streets of Manhattan and the outer boroughs in his trademark black-and-white tweed overcoat, looking like an old-school gentleman in a sea of bright athletic wear. And Harry is, indeed, old school: Now nearing 70, he’s frustrated by a city in which fewer people wear easily lifted expensive watches and fewer still carry large sums of cash, and in which everyone seems to speak a language of technology in which he isn’t fluent.

Needing to make a living, and needing to take care of his disabled and near-catatonic wife, Rosie (Karina Arroyave), Harry one evening picks the wrong gym bag to swipe: the one owned by Dylan Diamond (Will Price), scion of a ruthless crime family. Dylan, unsurprisingly, wants his stuff back, particularly a mysterious data card, and in true ruthless-crime-family-scion fashion he’s not very nice about it when Harry can’t immediately produce it.

So off we go with Harry, across the boroughs in pursuit of an object that’s already entered the underworld, and off we go with Turturro, on a remarkable actor’s journey. Other actors make strong impressions — Price, who’s very good at a sleazebag grin; Giancarlo Esposito, bringing nuance to the small role of a cop friend of Harry’s; Tatiana Maslany in a brief, electric appearance as Harry’s estranged daughter; and an unexpected late-movie cameo by an Oscar winner whose presence I won’t spoil — and the city of New York plays its role beautifully, with every pawnshop and bodega and apartment looking like they’ve been there forever, and have stories to tell.

But the movie belongs to Turturro. Harry is a quiet, watchful man who’s good at not being noticed (it’s a necessity in his line of work) while simultaneously noticing everything, and Turturro’s long, handsome face is the screen on which much of this film plays out. Harry wears unspoken regret every day, just as he wears that overcoat, and it takes the movie a while before we learn exactly why. You root for him, and you revel in the movie’s one moment of bittersweet joy: Harry dancing, to old-school ’70s disco on his turntable, calling out, “C’mon Rosie! Join me!” to his motionless wife on her hospital bed.

“The Only Living Pickpocket in New York” isn’t remotely a hopeful story, but it’s a lovely reminder that the best special effect in movies is the same as it’s ever been: a truly gifted actor.

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'THE ONLY LIVING PICKPOCKET IN NEW YORK'

3.5 stars (out of 4)

MPA rating: R (for language)

Running time: 1:28

How to watch: In theaters Oct. 30

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