Like many movies “set in New York,” Morbius relies on a number of generic exterior shots to establish that we’re on a journey in this, to be frank, generic city (so generic, in fact, that many other places can pass for it). Of course, budgetary constraints and/or tax incentives can often mean filming elsewhere instead… despite exterior shot appearances. And in Morbius’ case, it meant the Northern Quarter in Manchester (much to Morrissey’s presumed dismay), where the streets doubled for those of New York’s (again, speaking to a generic quality that many overlook in their bid to continually dub NY as “the greatest city in the world”). This includes the still tried-and-true cliché of featuring as many yellow cabs on the street as possible, as the city refuses to let go of nostalgia-based “iconicness.”
Director Daniel Espinosa’s visual take on the town does succeed at getting across the sense of that “anything goes” nature that New York so often prides itself on. Gets off on, more like. An irony considering that those who live there are part of a certain faction of liberalism that has become almost more censoring than Senator McCarthy was in the 1950s. Maybe that’s why Dr. Michael Morbius (Jared Leto)—who was probably better off chillin’ in Greece rather than being forced to go to a school for “gifted children” in New York—keeps mostly to himself in his lab (work-obsessed vibes that the city encourages also being manifest in this tendency).
That is, when he’s not jetting off to Costa Rica to collect a slew of bats and then extracting their glands to conduct an experiment on a mercenary-run ship in “international waters.” A.k.a. thirteen miles off the coast of Long Island. For, yes, even Long Island gets some play in the film. Or at least, the construct of Long Island—as much a part of “the NYC experience” as anything (#FireIsland).
Along with going to bars called things like Oriole (rhymes with glory hole) on the Lower East Side, which is where Morbius’ “brother,” of sorts, Milo (Matt Smith), finds himself in full-tilt Patrick Bateman mode after sneaking a batch of Morbius’ bat gene serum for himself (you see, they both have a rare blood disease that makes them very sickly, ergo the basis of this entire botched experiment). Prompting the same transformation into a bloodlusting monster that Milo isn’t even remotely as upset about. In fact, where Morbius sees it as a “curse,” Milo can only view it as a “gift.” Mainly because he has no compunction about killing humans (as few people seem to in New York after enough time spent there). Least of all douchebag “Wall Street types” (Milo himself passing for one in his Patrick Bateman-esque persona) cock-blocking him at the bar he’s patronizing.
And yes, sadly, this “Wall Street douchebag” trope lives on even after coronavirus attacking the city and theoretically “humbling” it/making office life have less clout than it formerly did in such a “business-centric” town. So business-centric, in fact, that it allowed Morbius to be set there. Indeed, what does it say about the alleged once-great city of New York that it has sunk so low as to let the highly-panned Morbius use and abuse it for background visuals? Well, it says that it needs the “free promotion” any way it can get it. Complete with Eric Adams begging gay Floridians to move back to the city post-“Don’t Say Gay” legislation, which somehow exudes “sloppy seconds” vibes, but whatever.
Other key scenes “promoting” the city occur in the “walking the streets” shots (some filmed whilst Leto is pretending to be crippled). At which time, viewers in Heartland America are further convinced that they could never deal with living there because of how teeming the sidewalks are to the point of barely having any personal space. Of course, this is just another myth depicted by Hollywood in a bid to portray the town as nothing short of a “constantly bustling metropolis.” Another scene that is shown in most of the previews of the movie is a requisite subway one. Wherein we see Jared Leto “feeling” the approaching subway wind coming and suddenly deciding to “ride” that wind instead of just, you know, getting on the subway. And that’s honestly understandable when taking into account all of the anxiety-inducing scenarios that can transpire within each car of the train at any given moment.
We’re meant to believe this “wind surfing” occurs at a subway station called “Front Street.” Which doesn’t exist (though there are two famous Front Streets among the boroughs, one in Lower Manhattan and one in Dumbo). Then again, most of the things touted in movies about New York don’t really exist there either (e.g. love and success).
More than anything, however, Morbius is a “New York movie” not just for establishing shots alone, but because it espouses the belief that you truly can achieve anything you want to in this “great city.” The fine print being that it will inevitably become horribly tainted and compromised in some unforeseeable way that even the most jaded and cynical person could not have predicted.
