The Warriors

"They tore down the screen!" Chris relayed excitedly on the playground. I never forgot those words or his breathlessness as he described his experience seeing 1979's THE WARRIORS. He had just moved from New York City to Florida and was filled with tales of big city excitement. The best, though, had to be of an angry movie theater audience bolting from their seats and tearing the screen to pieces. Even as a 5th grader, I was skeptical. But only for a few days. In the New York Times and other periodicals, there were accounts of how director/co-writer Walter Hill's gritty little picture was inspiring real life violence. Over the years, I've read even more stories of how restless viewers felt compelled to start trouble right in the theater. Sort of like an uglier version of THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW, I suppose. How bifurcating it can be for an artist: you are guilt ridden over how your creation incited destruction, yet possibly exhilarated that it inspired so strong an emotion. Most things we consume are barely felt, and soon forgotten. 

But where is the responsibility line? Is the onus on the creator or the audience? I've never forgotten THE WARRIORS. Seen it many times, though never in the theater (I was only 10 when it was released). My success with sneaking into R-rated movies back in the day was varied: a snippet of ANIMAL HOUSE here, a scene or two of THE JERK there. THE WARRIORS is a vivid journey through the sleaze and ugliness of late 70s NYC (regular readers will note that this has been a theme of my posts lately). The plot is simple: a messianic gang lord named Cyrus calls a meeting one night in the Bronx. In attendance are several gangs from around the city, groups with names like the Furies and the Lizzies. Cyrus states that he desires a consolidation of the gangs into one superpower that the NYPD and even the Mafia can't match. But like in real life, there is an element that resists such unity (even criminal) and a member of the Rogues pops a cap into Cyrus before he can finish his manifesto. The assassin acts quickly and points a finger at the Warriors, his accusation spreading like a virus through the crowd and city. The Warriors find themselves marked and must somehow survive the long trek back to Coney Island. As a tagline might go, "it's gonna be a long night." 

You might imagine the trouble the Warriors have. Not only are all the other gangs after their hides, but also the police. It's quite a distance between the Bronx and the decaying, rusty C.I. The rival gangs all seem to have a theme; one are dressed like New York Yankees and wield bats. Their face paint and demeanor perhaps reminds one of A CLOCKWORK ORANGE. This entire film might even be in a similiar vein-a cautionary examination of rampant violence and lawlessness. I'm not sure what Hill intended with this movie. It can be taken as some sort of parable or just at face value. With the latter, I think you're on safer ground. 

This is an effective mood piece, designed to evoke a sense of anxiety and vicarious thrill. It's violent, all right, but not with the sort of bludgeoning we see lately. The fights and gunplay are as cartoonish as the characters who, here, as in other Hill pics, are more types than real people. Each represents an emotion, a character flaw. The zenith was in Hill's THE DRIVER, where the characters didn't even have names. Mainly, it's a man's world. Brooding, laconic males who communicate through violence. Witness Chuck Bronson in Hill's HARD TIMES. Real discussions don't happen. The patter is usually brief and filled with bravado. 48 HOURS certainly demonstrated that. Women, on the other hand, never have very strong roles, though they are also not just rag dolls to be pulled along. The Warriors' Mercy is a tough broad, just like McCoy in STREETS OF FIRE. The real star here is Hill, a director who has been consistently underrated. His style is meticulous and energetic. THE LONG RIDERS, the 1980 Western, was as stylish as anything of that era. His orchestrations of mayhem and the colorful backdrops upon which they play out are tangible. THE WARRIORS was shot on location, and it often feels like you're on the dolly track along with the cameraman. Cinematographer Andrew Laszlo does great work here. Those long-ago patrons who itched to get up and bust something would agree. Who said moviegoing was passive?! As electric as that scene might've been, I'm content with enjoying this cult item in the safety of my own cave.