Susan, no last name, no inhibition. That was the name of the game in the New York of the 80s, wasn’t it? Getting by on an identity that no one could corroborate–nor one they would even want to. Especially if you were something of a con artist–scratch that. A female con artist wielding your “sexuality” (try not to picture Liz Lemon cringing at the word as Jenna Maroney says that’s how she plans to get what she wants). Like Madonna herself, Susan wasn’t necessarily a woman more attractive than all the rest–however, the raw energy emanating from her very core is what draws people all the way from Fort Lee, New Jersey to her. Bored housewife Roberta Glass (Rosanna Arquette) included. It is, in fact, her seeming life’s mission to encounter Susan as she at last meets Jim (Robert Joy) from the back and forth personal ads exchanged between them over the course of many months, as Susan is finishing up with a no longer interesting dick by the name of Bruce Meeker (the one and only Richard Hell) in Atlantic City.
That Susan can simply pack up her single defective skull suitcase (plus portable radio) and leave whenever the whim strikes her is, in fact, one of the foremost qualities anathema to the New Yorker of now, so obsessed with pre-planning their scant amount of vacation time before even daring to flee the scene, let alone with such minimal luggage. What’s more, Susan is not trying to “be anything”–not even an artist. Gasp! How can she possibly live like that? No goal, no set arrival point in her life? It would be too scandalous to even dream of now. Would potentially cause a coronary at any of the remaining “soirees” thrown in people’s apartments. Even in a place as “avant-garde” as, say, Red Hook. But Susan doesn’t need “plans,” lives by her wits stealing cash out of the wallets of her lovers and calling in random and undeserved favors from more “respectable” friends with jobs–even if said jobs entail being a magician’s assistant at The Magic Club (goddamn, how one wishes a joint like that still existed).
She makes her own storage unit for the suitcase that houses silverware in addition to stolen Egyptian artifacts at the Port Authority, where she picks the lock with a nail file. Then there is the matter of Susan taking a cab to meet Roberta. Good luck even trying to find a normal cab now–no, you’d have to download one of the apps to get you a car that would require a debit or credit card that Susan most certainly wouldn’t have available considering her uneven cash flow. Susan’s ability to finagle housing, food and, most importantly, accessories would never fly in the New York of 2018, where most egregious of all is asking someone for a favor as grand as a place to stay for a few hours, let alone “Just for tonight.”
Nonetheless, Susan manages to needle her way back into the life of one of her friends, Crystal (Anna Levine) a.k.a. the magician’s assistant, the second she arrives back into town, casually remarking, “Look, I’m really tired… why don’t I get some pizza and I’ll meet you at home?” Crystal returns, “You’ve got a place?!” Susan charmingly bites her nail and shrugs, “Not exactly… but I’m workin’ on it.” With that, lodging is secured. It’s almost jaw-dropping to regard such dialogue on the thirty-third anniversary of its theatrical release when taking into account the tightly wound assholes du jour guarding their preciously procured domesticity in present day New York, where something so presumptuous would never be agreed upon.
Even when she’s “helping” with the case of discovering Roberta’s whereabouts after her amnesiac episode, Susan manages to get something out of the situation, kifing a black sequined jacket from the closet with the simple and genuinely believed justification that, “She owes me a coat.” The reference to the famed pyramid jacket Roberta bought at Love Saves the Day (RIP) also alludes to another fact of New York that no longer exists: the ease with which one could barter their material goods. With conviction of salesmanship, all Susan has to say to get the rhinestone boots she wants is that her jacket used to belong to Jimi Hendrix–“bet he would love it if I swapped it for the boots,” she notes winkingly. If a girl claimed that now in some uppity thrift store like Beacon’s Closet (see the according Broad City episode for accurate representation), she would be looked upon like pure trash. No exchange to be made. Just embarrassment and shame to be had.
But maybe even Susan could have turned her ill fortune at a present day NYC thrift store into good luck, as she does with all the unexpected hurdles that come her way–like the sudden disappearance of her suitcase from the Port Authority locker after Roberta unintentionally assumes her identity. Ah, and this is the other element. As things stand now, a girl such as Roberta would never fetishize about being more free-spirited like Susan–would, instead, pity and dread her lifestyle, thanking her lucky stars that at least she managed to contrive some security and stability, even if the tradeoff was an unattractive husband and living in New Jersey.
The cavalier spirit of New York City at the time of the film’s release was what allowed someone who could live on their wits and street smarts to thrive so effortlessly, ergo the believability of a modern “screwball” comedy of this nature. So assured of herself is Susan that no matter where she goes, she makes a home for herself, like in Roberta’s Fort Lee residence as she takes a dip in the pool and eats cheese puffs in the middle of the day, judging Roberta’s banal diary with the comment, “It’s gotta be a cover. Nobody’s life could be this boring.” In the present era of New York, this is precisely how the last of the Susans feel, as though they’re marooned in some sort of sick Twilight Zone episode where everyone is concerned with making a “decent salary” and finding a husband amid claims of being fluid. It’s as though Fort Lee were transplanted smack dab into the middle of Brooklyn and Manhattan (Queens was already like Fort Lee, minus Jamaica). No, New York is no longer the place for a Susan. Atlantic City on the other hand…
