THE WARRIORS (1979), dir. Walter Hill
A Long Night’s Journey into Day
The armies of the night are over 60,000 strong, composed of hard-core "boppers," as well as factions who aren’t yet recognized. On this particular evening, every gang is sending a delegation of nine to the Bronx. They’re going there because Cyrus, the leader of the largest gang in the city, the Gramercy Riffs, is planning to speak. If you’re any kind of "bopper" in New York City, when Cyrus calls a meeting, you show up.
A month ago, Cyrus called for a truce between the gangs. No more fighting over scraps of turf, no more "wasting" each other. The truce is still on, and so, on a night where arguably the most powerful man in the city will deliver an address, thousands of angry, violent young men will go to the Bronx unarmed. No knives, no clubs. Any respectable "bopper" would not dare break the truce.
In a public square packed to the gills with athletic young men outfitted in their respective "colors," Cyrus calls for all the gangs in the city to unite. "We outnumber the cops three-to-one," he says. If only they would stop wasting one another, and marshall their forces into a single, giant army, the gangs could conquer the city one borough at a time.
Instead of the constant inter-gang "bopping" that has permeated gang culture forever, Cyrus argues for a more professional code of behavior. He envisions a new gang culture similar to the military: an umbrella land force broken up into smaller branches, each branch composed of even smaller units. In his speech, Cyrus goes as far as referring to the assembled "boppers" as "soldiers;" they have the potential to become Alexander the Great’s army, with Cyrus himself as the titular general.
In "The Warriors," the key to success is a professional code of behavior, and David Shaber and Walter Hill, co-writers of Hill’s 1979 film, up the ante further. Following a professional code of behavior becomes necessary for survival, not just thriving, after a small Coney Island gang, fittingly called the Rogues, disobeys the truce, and sneaks in a pistol (passed hand-to-hand, in a beautifully-edited montage), which they use to kill the Gramercy Riffs’ leader.
Chaos breaks loose, as police arrive and "boppers" scramble. The Rogues manage to pin the killing on a rival gang from Coney called the Warriors, who are initially unaware of the frame-up. After wriggling free of the cops’ grasp, the Warriors concern themselves with getting back to their home turf. This will not be simple, since their leader, Cleon (Dorsey Wright), has been arrested, and the rest of the gang are unarmed, in the midst of enemy territory.
"The Warriors" is fast-paced, action-packed, and depicts gang life about as authentically as "West Side Story" (To their credit, the Warriors sing and dance less). But I get the feeling this movie aspires less to be "Colors" or "Menace II Society," and more a high-energy, urban fantasy. At its worst, "The Warriors" romanticizes gang culture the way "The Godfather" gussied up the mafia, the title gang itself more like the A-Team than a pack of common hoodlums. Their members throw knives with pinpoint accuracy, deliver karate moves that would make Bruce Lee nod in admiration, and refrain from committing robberies or shakedowns (though there is one attempted rape).
A better comparision for "The Warriors" might be a military movie. Trapped deep behind enemy lines, this unit of eight must somehow sneak back across the border to safety. Instead of German tank patrols, the Warriors have to evade trucks packed with the Turnbull A.C. gang. This is where the importance of professional conduct comes in. After Cleon goes down, the gang initially gets mired by in-fighting, as war chief Swan (Michael Beck) clashes with their best fighter, Ajax, over leadership. But roles have to be determined, and more importantly, agreed upon, if the Warriors have any hope of surviving the night.
When everyone is on the same page, the gang is invincible. They take positions, then dispatch of a lightweight gang called the Orphans, without having to exchange a word. Against a clown-faced ambush, the Warriors split up, then double back on their unsuspecting enemies, assaulting them on two fronts. Unity is especially vital, since the Riffs, the Turnbull A.C.’s, the Lizzies, and other factions have joined forces to kill them. The part of the movie I found most fascinating was how the pursuers use a radio station DJ to keep everyone informed on the status of the hunt. Over the airwaves, she mentions the location of the quarry, who got wasted trying to do them in. The filmmakers’ most devilish moments of humor come when the DJ plays songs specifically for the Warriors to hear, including such aptly-named 70’s hits as "Nowhere to Run."
The Warriors’ journey from the Bronx to Coney Island leads to tangles with cops, blood enemies, even a pack of attractive females who resemble the sirens who side-tracked Odysseus. But the gang endures, not only because they fight well together, but because they look out for one another, as professional soldiers are wont to do. They leave no man behind, and if it does happen, they lament.
The movie’s director is Walter Hill, a Hollywood veteran whose last picture, 2002’s "Undisputed," starred Wesley Snipes and Ving Rhames as prison boxers. Hill seems to have a knack for male characters who live dangerously, and have trouble showing their sensitive sides to their women. Think of the relationship between Nick Nolte and Annette O’Toole in "48 Hours"; Jeff Bridges and Ellen Barkin in "Wild Bill"; James Spader and Angela Bassett in "Supernova."
Romance waits to bloom between the Warriors’ de-facto leader, Swan, and Mercy (Deborah Van Valkenburg), the girlfriend of the Orphans’ chief. But every time she tries to get close, he pushes her away. By the film’s end, she has shown herself to be as tough as any Warrior, and he articulates his feelings through a gesture that is quiet, but satisfying for the audience.
"The Warriors" is well-made, disposable entertainment. It has arguably two flaws, the first being the lack of real depth in many of the characters. There are few standouts, and one of them, Cleon, vanishes early from the movie. We remember Swan, because he is the leader of the gang, and because he gets several scenes alone with Mercy. Mercy stands out the strongest for me, not only because she has the largest role of any female character, she also changes the most between her first appearance and the movie’s end. When she first appears beside the Orphans, she has a hard, tough-gal quality. But check out the scene in the subway, where she is sitting next to Swan, and two prom night couples walk in. The prom dates are about the same age as her. They have coiffed hair, nice dresses, corsages, pretty shoes. At first, they barely notice Mercy, but when they do, they cannot stop staring at her.
The camera, representing their point of view, pans down from her dirty hands, past her sooty pink dress, down to her blackened feet and shoes. Tough girl Mercy instantly becomes self-conscious. She ducks her head in shame and closes her eyes, as if wishing for invisibility. It’s an unexpected moment, a powerful 180-degree turn, and our opinion of her, which may not have been favorable up until now, instantly changes into sympathy.
The other Warrior we remember is Ajax, who attempts to rape a woman sitting alone in a park. He’s a brute from the start, a veritable fistful of macho bluster every time he opens his mouth. But James Remar plays him as a deceptively complex musclehead, loyal to the death, just as quick to accuse his fellow boppers of being "fags," before storming off to beat or molest somebody. Of the entire cast, Remar had the best career after "The Warriors," and after watching his fearless performance, it’s easy to see why.
My final qualm with the movie are the "colors" the various gangs wear. So much creativity goes into their costumes that, by the time the guys in Yankee pinstripes and clown make-up show up, things start to get ridiculous. Along with the Warriors, who are decked out as Indians, we have the Riffs, who wear matching orange karate uniforms, the Rogues, who don black leather jackets, the aforesaid Baseball Furies, the Turnbull A.C.’s, who look like dock workers, the High Hats, who wear black top hats, and guys on roller skates with horizonally-striped sweaters. Granted, gang culture prior to the days of minimalist gangsta rap is alien to me, but I still find it hard to believe that genuine hard-core "boppers" wore attire like that during the 1970’s.
And maybe that’s the point. Remember, if viewers back then had accepted "The Warriors" as a sociological artifact, reflecting the actual status of gangs in New York City during the 70’s, that would mean gang members really outnumbered cops 3-to-1. That would have scared a lot of people, no matter how absurdly-dressed those 60,000 soldiers of the night were.
Overall rating: *** (out of ****)
The armies of the night are over 60,000 strong, composed of hard-core "boppers," as well as factions who aren’t yet recognized. On this particular evening, every gang is sending a delegation of nine to the Bronx. They’re going there because Cyrus, the leader of the largest gang in the city, the Gramercy Riffs, is planning to speak. If you’re any kind of "bopper" in New York City, when Cyrus calls a meeting, you show up.
A month ago, Cyrus called for a truce between the gangs. No more fighting over scraps of turf, no more "wasting" each other. The truce is still on, and so, on a night where arguably the most powerful man in the city will deliver an address, thousands of angry, violent young men will go to the Bronx unarmed. No knives, no clubs. Any respectable "bopper" would not dare break the truce.
In a public square packed to the gills with athletic young men outfitted in their respective "colors," Cyrus calls for all the gangs in the city to unite. "We outnumber the cops three-to-one," he says. If only they would stop wasting one another, and marshall their forces into a single, giant army, the gangs could conquer the city one borough at a time.
Instead of the constant inter-gang "bopping" that has permeated gang culture forever, Cyrus argues for a more professional code of behavior. He envisions a new gang culture similar to the military: an umbrella land force broken up into smaller branches, each branch composed of even smaller units. In his speech, Cyrus goes as far as referring to the assembled "boppers" as "soldiers;" they have the potential to become Alexander the Great’s army, with Cyrus himself as the titular general.
In "The Warriors," the key to success is a professional code of behavior, and David Shaber and Walter Hill, co-writers of Hill’s 1979 film, up the ante further. Following a professional code of behavior becomes necessary for survival, not just thriving, after a small Coney Island gang, fittingly called the Rogues, disobeys the truce, and sneaks in a pistol (passed hand-to-hand, in a beautifully-edited montage), which they use to kill the Gramercy Riffs’ leader.
Chaos breaks loose, as police arrive and "boppers" scramble. The Rogues manage to pin the killing on a rival gang from Coney called the Warriors, who are initially unaware of the frame-up. After wriggling free of the cops’ grasp, the Warriors concern themselves with getting back to their home turf. This will not be simple, since their leader, Cleon (Dorsey Wright), has been arrested, and the rest of the gang are unarmed, in the midst of enemy territory.
"The Warriors" is fast-paced, action-packed, and depicts gang life about as authentically as "West Side Story" (To their credit, the Warriors sing and dance less). But I get the feeling this movie aspires less to be "Colors" or "Menace II Society," and more a high-energy, urban fantasy. At its worst, "The Warriors" romanticizes gang culture the way "The Godfather" gussied up the mafia, the title gang itself more like the A-Team than a pack of common hoodlums. Their members throw knives with pinpoint accuracy, deliver karate moves that would make Bruce Lee nod in admiration, and refrain from committing robberies or shakedowns (though there is one attempted rape).
A better comparision for "The Warriors" might be a military movie. Trapped deep behind enemy lines, this unit of eight must somehow sneak back across the border to safety. Instead of German tank patrols, the Warriors have to evade trucks packed with the Turnbull A.C. gang. This is where the importance of professional conduct comes in. After Cleon goes down, the gang initially gets mired by in-fighting, as war chief Swan (Michael Beck) clashes with their best fighter, Ajax, over leadership. But roles have to be determined, and more importantly, agreed upon, if the Warriors have any hope of surviving the night.
When everyone is on the same page, the gang is invincible. They take positions, then dispatch of a lightweight gang called the Orphans, without having to exchange a word. Against a clown-faced ambush, the Warriors split up, then double back on their unsuspecting enemies, assaulting them on two fronts. Unity is especially vital, since the Riffs, the Turnbull A.C.’s, the Lizzies, and other factions have joined forces to kill them. The part of the movie I found most fascinating was how the pursuers use a radio station DJ to keep everyone informed on the status of the hunt. Over the airwaves, she mentions the location of the quarry, who got wasted trying to do them in. The filmmakers’ most devilish moments of humor come when the DJ plays songs specifically for the Warriors to hear, including such aptly-named 70’s hits as "Nowhere to Run."
The Warriors’ journey from the Bronx to Coney Island leads to tangles with cops, blood enemies, even a pack of attractive females who resemble the sirens who side-tracked Odysseus. But the gang endures, not only because they fight well together, but because they look out for one another, as professional soldiers are wont to do. They leave no man behind, and if it does happen, they lament.
The movie’s director is Walter Hill, a Hollywood veteran whose last picture, 2002’s "Undisputed," starred Wesley Snipes and Ving Rhames as prison boxers. Hill seems to have a knack for male characters who live dangerously, and have trouble showing their sensitive sides to their women. Think of the relationship between Nick Nolte and Annette O’Toole in "48 Hours"; Jeff Bridges and Ellen Barkin in "Wild Bill"; James Spader and Angela Bassett in "Supernova."
Romance waits to bloom between the Warriors’ de-facto leader, Swan, and Mercy (Deborah Van Valkenburg), the girlfriend of the Orphans’ chief. But every time she tries to get close, he pushes her away. By the film’s end, she has shown herself to be as tough as any Warrior, and he articulates his feelings through a gesture that is quiet, but satisfying for the audience.
"The Warriors" is well-made, disposable entertainment. It has arguably two flaws, the first being the lack of real depth in many of the characters. There are few standouts, and one of them, Cleon, vanishes early from the movie. We remember Swan, because he is the leader of the gang, and because he gets several scenes alone with Mercy. Mercy stands out the strongest for me, not only because she has the largest role of any female character, she also changes the most between her first appearance and the movie’s end. When she first appears beside the Orphans, she has a hard, tough-gal quality. But check out the scene in the subway, where she is sitting next to Swan, and two prom night couples walk in. The prom dates are about the same age as her. They have coiffed hair, nice dresses, corsages, pretty shoes. At first, they barely notice Mercy, but when they do, they cannot stop staring at her.
The camera, representing their point of view, pans down from her dirty hands, past her sooty pink dress, down to her blackened feet and shoes. Tough girl Mercy instantly becomes self-conscious. She ducks her head in shame and closes her eyes, as if wishing for invisibility. It’s an unexpected moment, a powerful 180-degree turn, and our opinion of her, which may not have been favorable up until now, instantly changes into sympathy.
The other Warrior we remember is Ajax, who attempts to rape a woman sitting alone in a park. He’s a brute from the start, a veritable fistful of macho bluster every time he opens his mouth. But James Remar plays him as a deceptively complex musclehead, loyal to the death, just as quick to accuse his fellow boppers of being "fags," before storming off to beat or molest somebody. Of the entire cast, Remar had the best career after "The Warriors," and after watching his fearless performance, it’s easy to see why.
My final qualm with the movie are the "colors" the various gangs wear. So much creativity goes into their costumes that, by the time the guys in Yankee pinstripes and clown make-up show up, things start to get ridiculous. Along with the Warriors, who are decked out as Indians, we have the Riffs, who wear matching orange karate uniforms, the Rogues, who don black leather jackets, the aforesaid Baseball Furies, the Turnbull A.C.’s, who look like dock workers, the High Hats, who wear black top hats, and guys on roller skates with horizonally-striped sweaters. Granted, gang culture prior to the days of minimalist gangsta rap is alien to me, but I still find it hard to believe that genuine hard-core "boppers" wore attire like that during the 1970’s.
And maybe that’s the point. Remember, if viewers back then had accepted "The Warriors" as a sociological artifact, reflecting the actual status of gangs in New York City during the 70’s, that would mean gang members really outnumbered cops 3-to-1. That would have scared a lot of people, no matter how absurdly-dressed those 60,000 soldiers of the night were.
Overall rating: *** (out of ****)
Labels: ***, 1979, Walter Hill
posted by Phil | 10:32 AM
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