If you think that life is tough, love is forlorn, and human nature is more like drinking a three day old cup of black coffee than reciting poetic bliss, then The Sunshine Hotel is for you. I was browsing my library of noirish films on Amazon Prime last night looking for something deep and dark to go along with my 6 ounce glass of John Jameson and by sheer chance, came across The Sunshine Hotel. The film chronicles the down and out existence of tenants living in a flophouse in the Bowery section of New York City. What is a flophouse? Try a tenement building with 200 rooms, each 4 X 6, renting for $70 a week. We are introduced to a mix of life's losers: addicts, transvestite prostitutes, ex-cons, alcoholics, and even a bookish street philosopher. In their own way, they are all interesting and accepting about their plight in life. Tragic? Yes. But their is something admirable about acquiring a set of survival skills by necessity. The whole thing reminded me of a Blind Willie Johnson song on video. Judge for yourself.
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