This film represents some truly impressive work from a remarkably gifted group of people. Frank Pierce is a paramedic in New York City, working within the Hell's Kitchen area where he witnesses disturbing events. As the job begins to wear on him and he receives little support from a series of unusual colleagues, Frank may discover comfort with an ex-addict whose father he transported while he was dying of a heart attack. Martin Scorsese has never shied away from experimentation; following his exploration of Eastern spirituality in 1997's *Kundun*, he returns to New York to portray a segment of America’s troubled heroes. Based on Joe Connelly's novel, *Bringing Out The Dead* can be challenging at times, but its moving and affecting nature is presented with remarkable skill by one of the nation’s most celebrated directors. It has to be said that the humor present is darkly brilliant in how it’s handled. We follow Frank through three days and nights as he and his eccentric partners handle overdoses, cardiac arrests, intoxicated individuals, and a notably cynical account of a virgin birth! As Frank starts experiencing visions of people he couldn't save from the past, Scorsese and his team deliver an adrenaline-fueled nightmare; the editing (by Thelma Schoonmaker) is rapid and explosive, Robert Richardson’s cinematography frames certain aspects of this journey with impressive precision, and then there’s the music. Scorsese always pays close attention to a film's soundtrack, and few contemporary directors possess his talent for selecting the perfect musical accompaniment. Combining Motown with 1970s Punk Rock might seem like an odd pairing, but it all works as the paramedics feel the pressure mounting and (in some instances) succumb to mania. It’s uncommon to hear a New York Dolls track in a movie, and hearing a Johnny Thunders solo track is as unusual as a dog that speaks Norwegian; here, the inclusion of Thunders' "You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory" is perfect and deeply impactful. Similarly, early Clash songs are used effectively as the main characters draw energy from each other’s fragile mental states—it's a soundtrack worth appreciating. Nicholas Cage portrays Frank Pierce, delivering a powerful performance characterized by restraint and honesty; it’s the kind of work that his critics often overlook due to its simple emotional depth. Tom Sizemore (wonderfully manic), Ving Rhames, John Goodman, and Patricia Arquette also appear in supporting roles, all performing well, but they would likely be the first to acknowledge the quality of Paul Schrader's screenplay. This film isn’t a masterpiece, but given its intensity alongside the need for paramedics to cope with trauma, it’s evident that Scorsese and his talented team have created one of the most perceptive and overlooked films of the 1990s. It receives a rating of 9/10.

Source on TMDB