The Warriors (1979)

New York City and Times Square have come along considerably since the 1970s. Once a place where tourists and Manhattanites could delve into episodes of debauchery, today is a place where tourists take their families for a fun vacation. That's what Bollywood star Parmita Kurada thought when she took her family into the city to have a day of family fun.

If anyone's been to Times Square of late, then you can attest to the inundation of costumed people roaming around the Crossroads of the World. There are hordes of them dressed as characters from famous Disney movies and other entertainment outlets, looking like deranged replicas of their counterparts that would give anyone who comes in contact with them an uneasy feeling.

Last week when Kurada's two-year old son posed for a picture with the Cookie Monster, the gentlemen grabbed the toddler and began feverishly shaking him and demanding for a tip. Last time I was in Times Square, I snapped a photo - with my cell phone, mind you - with Mickey Mouse and Woody (who looked like he had his face smashed in with a shovel) and the bastards were insistent on getting a tip.

For what? They didn't do shit for me.

Besides the point, but Osvaldo Quiroz-Lopez, the man donning the Cookie Monster costume, said to the actress and her son, "You are a bitch, your son is a bastard and your stuff is trash." Talk about a cute, cuddleable character.

Original Theatrical Poster

What Quiroz-Lopez said to this woman and her child is unfit for Sesame Street - let alone the next film we'll look at - The Warriors, a film from 1979 and photographed right in the heart of 1970s New York City.

The Warriors is an action film. No, it's a gang film. Wait - it's a road movie. Whatever it's categorized as, it is a film that could only be produced in the "Me" decade.

The Warriors are a street gang residing in Coney Island in the Brooklyn borough of Manhattan. They are known as a "heavy" outfit for the fact that they are willing to rumble with the best of them. Word comes forth from a man named Cyrus, the leader of the Gramercy Riffs (the largest gang in the city), that a meeting will be held in the Bronx to unify every gang in the city to fight against the real threats - the police, the politicians - instead of bloodshed among each other.

Blah, blah, blah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We've heard that spiel before. And so has Luther, a real weasel of a character and leader of the Rouges, a gang on the low tier of the gang barometer. He has other ideas and draws a pistol, shooting Cyrus in the chest and killing him.

In a mob of a thousand people, only one person, a member of the Warriors, sees Luther shoot Cyrus. Luther shouts it out loud: "There he is! That's him! That's...the Warrior! He shot Cyrus!"

And what does a gang receive for killing the leader of the largest rival in the city? A manhunt - not just from the Gramercy Riffs - but from every gang in the city. The bad news? Not that the Warriors can't fight off each gang, because that's their specialty, but that the meeting was held in the Bronx and it's a long trek back to their turf on Coney Island.

Director Walter Hill envisioned his film as a comic book adaptation with splash panels, whereas the original script depicted a more authentic view of violence among street gangs in the city. A small budget hampered the production costs to make the comic book aesthetic come to life, so Hill instead injected themes of Greek mythology he wanted into the script.

The Warriors is based off the tale of Anabasis as told by Xenophen, where Cyrus the Younger led 10,000 Spartans into Persia to seize control of an area under his brother's rule. Cyrus is inevitably killed in the battle, and Xenophen, selected as one by the soldiers, must lead his men through deserts and mountains back to safety on the coastline of Greece. The parallels between the two stories are evident, and the thematic link may seem like a yawn, but it's the cast of characters the Warriors meet along their journey that make the movie so enjoyable.

If Hill couldn't get the technical effects he wanted, he achieved the desired campiness through the costume designs of the gangs in the film. Gangs are known for their colors, and as much as that is true in this film, for some gangs it just doesn't come off right.

The Warriors for example, our band of heroes, are shitless and dressed in brown leather vests with a logo of a skull with wings. The only thing scary about this costume is the lack of muscles of the actors posing as the "toughest" gang. Put some shirts on please...

And then there's the Baseball Furies, easily the most popular group after the Warriors. Sporting complete athletic uniforms, this gang brandishes a pair of spikes and bats and full-fledged tribal paint.

    

Intimidating? Not really. They're as threatening as the Disney characters that populate Times Square today. And if you're going to have a bat as your weapon of choice, make sure your enemy doesn't turn around and use it on you.

All kidding aside, the comic book appeal works simply because the characters believe their actions and emotions. There are over 100 gangs in the film (some aren't given screen time) and every gang has their own designs, logos and backstory. It's this attention to detail that keeps the film grounded in some sort of reality.

But the gangs aren't all that threatening or even comparable to gangs in today's society. There's only one gun in the entire movie and the Gramercy Riffs, the biggest gang, carry chains and hockey sticks. I know. There's a montage at the beginning of the film showing different gangs making their way to the meeting. One gang takes the subway and one of the members puts change into the turnstile. Any real gang would hop that shit.

One thing the movie has going for it is Hill's eye for action. He choreographs fight scenes as if they're intricate and beautiful dance numbers. Here the Warriors battle the Punks in a subway bathroom.

Was that idiot on roller skates? No wonder they got their asses handed to them. But it's clear that the film has some great action and fight scenes, bolstered by Hill's knack for staging the fights in interesting situations, and showing the Warriors aren't to be messed with. I can't believe the roller skates...

The movie hasn't aged all that well, from the costumes to the vernacular of the time (Cyrus shouting "Can you dig it" at the beginning), and that's not a bad thing. The movie acts as time capsule of what New York City was like during the 1970s. In fact, New York is the greatest character in the film. There are two films that do this best: Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976) and this film.

From the late 1960s through the late 1980s, New York City was in economic despair, basically on the verge of bankruptcy. When a bailout was asked of President Ford, he famously told the city to "Drop Dead." New York was a literal dump with garbage strewn everywhere - a sewer that led straight to the pits of hell. A place where crime, drugs and prostitution ran rampant and those theaters on 42nd Street that currently show critically acclaimed and award winning productions showed, well, something a little different.

The city was a frightening place to be, especially at night, and the cinematography from Andrew Laszlo heightens the effect. Laszlo employs slow moving tracking shots at low angles, and the city streets were sprayed down with a water to reflect the numerous lights supplied naturally from the city. These are effects that trick the characters and the viewer into thinking something's waiting for them, the camera angles disorient the viewer, and the glisten of the lights catch the eyes, resulting in the characters - and the viewer - into taking a double-take.

And it all adds up to a final delirious, up-all-night showdown on the beaches of Coney Island, a scene that rivals that of the greatest Western.

The Warriors performed well at the box office, even considered a hit for its time. But what doomed the film from the start was its subject matter. Even though the film depicts scenes of stylized violence, real violence plagued the theaters where the film was screened. The scenario was that gangs would go see the movie and a rival gang would also be at the screening. If The Warriors taught you anything, you know what happens next. Paramount was forced to pull advertising for the film and theaters bolstered security at showings.

And now, as the streets of New York have cleaned up considerably since 1979, the city council now has another menace out on the streets: gangs of furry characters violently begging for tips.