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#551 - The Warriors
Walter Hill, 1979
When a prominent street-gang leader is publicly assassinated, the gang that has been wrongfully accused of the deed must fight their way through a city full of angry gangs in order to get back to their home turf.
The Warriors has rightfully become recognised as one of the greatest cult classics of all-time for plenty of good reasons. For starters, it builds an interesting dystopia-like film out of a premise that is virtually science-fiction, with co-writer/director Hill intending to set the film in a not-too-distant future not unlike the weird but recognisable Britain seen in A Clockwork Orange, which is an obvious influence on this film. In Hill's film, New York City still bears a superficial resemblance to its equally grim-looking real-life counterpart, except there there are lots and lots of gangs strewn throughout the city to the point where they outnumber the already-sizeable number of police officers. The leader of the city's most powerful gang, a charismatic fellow named Cyrus (Roger Hill), thus gets the idea to call a city-wide truce followed by a massive meeting between every gang in the city. He intends to have them call off their feuds, ally with one another, and rise up to take the city of themselves. Unfortunately, after making this announcement Cyrus is shot and killed, leading to perpetrator Luther (David Patrick Kelly) blaming the eponymous crew. The plot then kicks off with the Warriors (who are unaware of the city-wide manhunt targeted against them) trying to make their way back to their home turf of Coney Island, working to fight or avoid whatever enemies they encounter on their journey.
With a premise as relatively bare-bones as this one, it pays to pack it out with anything that can make the film work, which The Warriors most definitely does. The film itself looks fairly gritty thanks to its being set in a New York full of run-down urban landscapes coated in grime and graffiti, but that's about where the true grit ends as the rest of the film builds an out-sized yet oddly believable world of cartoonish street gangs. The Warriors and their Native American-themed vests look mild compared to many of the other gangs; The Baseball Furies are probably the most iconic characters in the film with their bizarre combination of baseball uniforms and brighty-coloured face-paint, though other gangs include the all-female Lizzies wearing tie-dye shirts and denim or the Turnbull A.C.'s and their skinhead punk aesthetic. In this company, the actual police are no different from any other gang with their all-blue uniforms and signature nightsticks. Despite the apparent goofiness of each gang's look, the film manages to balance silliness with seriousness as the other gangs force our would-be heroes into various fight-or-flight situations. The world also throws in plenty of weird little details to properly flesh out the world, such as the silky-voiced radio announcer who provides updates on the Warriors' progress in between pumping out all sorts of era-appropriate jams, which make for an interesting blend with the wide variety of moods provided by Barry DeVorzon's mainly-synthesised original score.
Despite the low budget and minimalist narrative, the film still manages to provide solid characterisation for its sizeable cast. The main cast of characters may be fairly one-note in terms of development (the stoic leader, the oversexed bully, the nervous new kid, the talkative comic relief, etc.) and not all that great as actors, but none of them ever come across as irritating despite these qualities. Michael Beck and James Remar in particular deliver surprisingly charismatic performances (in a cult way) as the group's no-nonsense de facto leader Swan and his brutish rival Ajax respectively. As Luther, Kelly makes for a great love-to-hate presence as a chaotically evil prankster whose screechy voice and unbalanced personality result in one of the most iconic movie moments to ever involve beer bottles, while Roger Hill as Cyrus makes the most of his one scene to deliver an amazing grand-standing monologue to a rapturous audience. The impressive performances even extend to incredibly minor characters, whether it's Cyrus's vengeful second-in-command yelling out his demands or even future Oscar winner Mercedes Ruehl in a bit part that doesn't deserve to be talked about because of spoilers. The film doesn't quite stick every narrative landing, especially with the addition of a random woman named Mercy (Deborah van Valkenburgh) who decides to tag along with the Warriors in hopes of finding anywhere that's better than her current situation involving the weakest gang in the city. While her sudden presence does take a while to get used to, she's good enough to add a decent enough layer of depth to what could have been another hackneyed romantic sub-plot (and also results in one of the film's s best character moments when she ends up on a train with a group of preppy teenagers coming home from prom night). In any case, they are all good enough to sell some incredibly punchy dialogue that's littered with old slang and the occasional great turn of phrase - look no further than Ajax's menacing threat to a Baseball Fury that has him cornered.
In terms of being an action movie, The Warriors deserves credit for working around its limited budget. Granted, it's mostly limited to being a toss-up between chases, fights, or combination of the two, but it's not like you're expecting a film about impoverished gangs in the slums of a '70s-looking New York to be getting into destructive gun-fights (though there is the occasional gunfight or explosion). There's an economy to the fighting that makes it feel surprisingly tactile despite obvious moments of staging and choreography. Slick combinations of semi-realistic cinematography and editing alternately make it feel grounded or heighten the fantastic elements, whether it's the use of punctuation-like cuts during a brawl or resorting to slow-motion in order to capture especially graphic moments (such as a chair breaking on someone's head). Though the violence itself has arguably grown fairly tame in the decades following its release, it doesn't feel like it when baseball bats are getting broken or people are getting smashed into bathroom mirrors. It is that weird hybrid of rough-edged realism and vibrant comic-book fantasy that makes The Warriors a true cult classic. Walter Hill and co. draw on all kinds of sources from Greek mythology to KISS in order to put together a film that resides on the very fine line between dour slug-fest and campy free-for-all. The characters are memorable in frequently good ways, the plot is simple yet compelling, the action is most definitely watchable no matter what tone it's going for, and the film's whole retro-futuristic sense of artistic direction is simply so aesthetically and aurally pleasing. It's far from perfect and I don't doubt that there are plenty of reasonable arguments against it (some people might dislike it on the basis of all the reasons why I've praised it, to say nothing of the many moments where the cracks show), but who's writing the review here? Either you can dig it...or you can come out to play-ay...
Addendum: If you haven't seen this movie before and want to check it out, make sure that you try to find the original 1979 cut of the film. Walter Hill released an "Ultimate Director's Cut" in 200X that grafted on a variety of technical changes such as comic-book intertitles, post-production zooming, and a prologue comparing the Warriors to ancient heroes of Greek history. While this is semi-tolerable on one watch, it ruins both the pace and the feel of Hill's original enough so that I definitely recommend making the effort to see the original version wherever possible. Seriously, I know he did it with the best of intentions but it does feel like an affront on par with the special editions of the Star Wars Original Trilogy.
Walter Hill, 1979
When a prominent street-gang leader is publicly assassinated, the gang that has been wrongfully accused of the deed must fight their way through a city full of angry gangs in order to get back to their home turf.
The Warriors has rightfully become recognised as one of the greatest cult classics of all-time for plenty of good reasons. For starters, it builds an interesting dystopia-like film out of a premise that is virtually science-fiction, with co-writer/director Hill intending to set the film in a not-too-distant future not unlike the weird but recognisable Britain seen in A Clockwork Orange, which is an obvious influence on this film. In Hill's film, New York City still bears a superficial resemblance to its equally grim-looking real-life counterpart, except there there are lots and lots of gangs strewn throughout the city to the point where they outnumber the already-sizeable number of police officers. The leader of the city's most powerful gang, a charismatic fellow named Cyrus (Roger Hill), thus gets the idea to call a city-wide truce followed by a massive meeting between every gang in the city. He intends to have them call off their feuds, ally with one another, and rise up to take the city of themselves. Unfortunately, after making this announcement Cyrus is shot and killed, leading to perpetrator Luther (David Patrick Kelly) blaming the eponymous crew. The plot then kicks off with the Warriors (who are unaware of the city-wide manhunt targeted against them) trying to make their way back to their home turf of Coney Island, working to fight or avoid whatever enemies they encounter on their journey.
With a premise as relatively bare-bones as this one, it pays to pack it out with anything that can make the film work, which The Warriors most definitely does. The film itself looks fairly gritty thanks to its being set in a New York full of run-down urban landscapes coated in grime and graffiti, but that's about where the true grit ends as the rest of the film builds an out-sized yet oddly believable world of cartoonish street gangs. The Warriors and their Native American-themed vests look mild compared to many of the other gangs; The Baseball Furies are probably the most iconic characters in the film with their bizarre combination of baseball uniforms and brighty-coloured face-paint, though other gangs include the all-female Lizzies wearing tie-dye shirts and denim or the Turnbull A.C.'s and their skinhead punk aesthetic. In this company, the actual police are no different from any other gang with their all-blue uniforms and signature nightsticks. Despite the apparent goofiness of each gang's look, the film manages to balance silliness with seriousness as the other gangs force our would-be heroes into various fight-or-flight situations. The world also throws in plenty of weird little details to properly flesh out the world, such as the silky-voiced radio announcer who provides updates on the Warriors' progress in between pumping out all sorts of era-appropriate jams, which make for an interesting blend with the wide variety of moods provided by Barry DeVorzon's mainly-synthesised original score.
Despite the low budget and minimalist narrative, the film still manages to provide solid characterisation for its sizeable cast. The main cast of characters may be fairly one-note in terms of development (the stoic leader, the oversexed bully, the nervous new kid, the talkative comic relief, etc.) and not all that great as actors, but none of them ever come across as irritating despite these qualities. Michael Beck and James Remar in particular deliver surprisingly charismatic performances (in a cult way) as the group's no-nonsense de facto leader Swan and his brutish rival Ajax respectively. As Luther, Kelly makes for a great love-to-hate presence as a chaotically evil prankster whose screechy voice and unbalanced personality result in one of the most iconic movie moments to ever involve beer bottles, while Roger Hill as Cyrus makes the most of his one scene to deliver an amazing grand-standing monologue to a rapturous audience. The impressive performances even extend to incredibly minor characters, whether it's Cyrus's vengeful second-in-command yelling out his demands or even future Oscar winner Mercedes Ruehl in a bit part that doesn't deserve to be talked about because of spoilers. The film doesn't quite stick every narrative landing, especially with the addition of a random woman named Mercy (Deborah van Valkenburgh) who decides to tag along with the Warriors in hopes of finding anywhere that's better than her current situation involving the weakest gang in the city. While her sudden presence does take a while to get used to, she's good enough to add a decent enough layer of depth to what could have been another hackneyed romantic sub-plot (and also results in one of the film's s best character moments when she ends up on a train with a group of preppy teenagers coming home from prom night). In any case, they are all good enough to sell some incredibly punchy dialogue that's littered with old slang and the occasional great turn of phrase - look no further than Ajax's menacing threat to a Baseball Fury that has him cornered.
In terms of being an action movie, The Warriors deserves credit for working around its limited budget. Granted, it's mostly limited to being a toss-up between chases, fights, or combination of the two, but it's not like you're expecting a film about impoverished gangs in the slums of a '70s-looking New York to be getting into destructive gun-fights (though there is the occasional gunfight or explosion). There's an economy to the fighting that makes it feel surprisingly tactile despite obvious moments of staging and choreography. Slick combinations of semi-realistic cinematography and editing alternately make it feel grounded or heighten the fantastic elements, whether it's the use of punctuation-like cuts during a brawl or resorting to slow-motion in order to capture especially graphic moments (such as a chair breaking on someone's head). Though the violence itself has arguably grown fairly tame in the decades following its release, it doesn't feel like it when baseball bats are getting broken or people are getting smashed into bathroom mirrors. It is that weird hybrid of rough-edged realism and vibrant comic-book fantasy that makes The Warriors a true cult classic. Walter Hill and co. draw on all kinds of sources from Greek mythology to KISS in order to put together a film that resides on the very fine line between dour slug-fest and campy free-for-all. The characters are memorable in frequently good ways, the plot is simple yet compelling, the action is most definitely watchable no matter what tone it's going for, and the film's whole retro-futuristic sense of artistic direction is simply so aesthetically and aurally pleasing. It's far from perfect and I don't doubt that there are plenty of reasonable arguments against it (some people might dislike it on the basis of all the reasons why I've praised it, to say nothing of the many moments where the cracks show), but who's writing the review here? Either you can dig it...or you can come out to play-ay...
Addendum: If you haven't seen this movie before and want to check it out, make sure that you try to find the original 1979 cut of the film. Walter Hill released an "Ultimate Director's Cut" in 200X that grafted on a variety of technical changes such as comic-book intertitles, post-production zooming, and a prologue comparing the Warriors to ancient heroes of Greek history. While this is semi-tolerable on one watch, it ruins both the pace and the feel of Hill's original enough so that I definitely recommend making the effort to see the original version wherever possible. Seriously, I know he did it with the best of intentions but it does feel like an affront on par with the special editions of the Star Wars Original Trilogy.