Tucked into a section of Brooklyn where the past morphs haltingly into the future, a place where Black Fact Books shares a block with a T-Mobile outlet and shuttered storefronts have begun to give way to condo developments, Raskin's has survived by staying the same. An old-fashioned Jewish diner that's served up egg creams and reubens to several generations of patrons, it services a busy breakfast crowd and employs a cross-section of neighborhood folks, from college-bound teens to dishwashing ex-cons. The staff, like the clientele, reflects the neighborhood by cutting across ethnic lines. But the neighborhood has begun to change in ways that may leave Raskin's behind. In fact, before Everyday People has even begun, owner Jordan Gelber has decided to cash in his chips and sell the family business to property developers who, later in the day, rationalize how a Banana Republic and a Hard Rock Cafe will be good for the neighborhood. There are even plans for a chain specializing in "authentic diner food" to open up a branch, so where's the loss?
Director Jim McKay provides an answer by way of illustration. Starring an impressive cast of newcomers, been-around-the-block character actors, and theater vets, McKay's Everyday People captures a day in the life of Raskin's as news of its closing spreads through the staff. Each reacts differently, most badly. The majority of the staff has no next step, or at least no next step they want to consider. Some take their frustration out on Gelber, but the film refuses to paint him, or anyone, as a villain. He's just a man who has to make a tough choice.
Tough choices confront most of the characters, and by the film's end, few of them have come to any decision. If McKay intended to offer a slice of life, he's succeeded, maybe too well. The film, developed from a script taken from real-life stories of ordinary New Yorkers, and fleshed out in improv workshops, captures almost a dozen well-realized characters at a crossroads, then leaves them there. The lack of resolution is hardwired into the project, but the fact that Everyday People, which premièred on HBO, occasionally feels like the pilot for a first-rate TV show makes it hard not to wish for more. That's not to shortchange the film, however: Though it lacks some of the New York naturalism of McKay's wonderful, little-seen Our Song, the ensemble drama still makes a quiet, passionate argument that places where patrons can ask for their regular spot are what make a neighborhood, whatever the allure of bright lights and brand names.