Warriors - Os Selvagens da Noite

There are numerous reasons why Walter Hill's THE WARRIORS remains a classic film - and arguably not simply a cult classic, but a true classic - despite its very much of-its-time sensibilities. Somewhat ironically, the movie's acting is not among those reasons. With the exception of two bravura efforts by Roger Hill and David Patrick Kelly, one will not find "command performances" here (although James Remar and Deborah Van Valkenburgh do gnaw quite a bit on the scenery). Other than that, the acting is hard-boiled and generic. But then, the lack of flair in the acting department is arguably one of the film's unsung strengths. As the main protagonist, for example, Michael Beck, while not exactly sympathetic, is an easily relatable hero. He's very much like Henry Fonda in 12 ANGRY MEN - except, of course, for the long hair and the bare chest.

Much more remarkable are all the ways in which THE WARRIORS managed to create a thrilling cinematic experience that still holds up today, despite its low budget. The list is a long one: set design (such as it is), dialogue, music, costume design, makeup, thematic elements. But most worthy of mention is Andrew Laszlo's cinematography. I love the camera's aesthetic, which is very "1970s" but, in a number of ways, is more compelling than any filmic style you'll see today. It is rooted in realism, but the "reality" it depicts is clearly a "heightened" variety, as we see the dark New York City streets illuminated as if by nighttime stage lights. And the outlandish goings-on seen throughout much of the film compound the surreal atmosphere. The end result is wonderfully paradoxical: it is an awe-inspiring experience to imagine that the fantastical events depicted could actually be happening, or once did happen.

But the "look" of this film would be insignificant without a strong story and solid thematic content, and THE WARRIORS possesses these in spades. It is remembered, somewhat condescendingly, as a "typical" late '70s film, but I think it is more accurate to think of it as a '60s film made a full decade too late. It is, after all, adapted from Sol Yurick's 1965 novel of the same name (and its tagline, "These are the armies of the night," obviously echoes the title of Norman Mailer's 1968 novel). More to the point, the movie's premise of a gangland insurrection contains quite a few overtones and undertones of political radicalism, and visual reminders of the '60s counterculture are not uncommon. (It is interesting to note that the original novel was inspired in part by Xenophon's 4th century B. C. epic ANABASIS, so the film also offers allusions to Greek myth and legend for those who care to look for them.)

But there is so much more in THE WARRIORS to capture the imagination. The movie's soundtrack - an assortment of disco, hard rock, and early synthpop, plus a few would-be radio hits - is rightly famous, as is its carnivalesque depiction of inner-city life (an influence on the Insane Clown Posse's "Dark Carnival" mythology, perhaps?). The action sequences, too, are first-rate - intense and thrilling. (Given that the cops who are looking for the Warriors are no less silently menacing than the rival gang members out for revenge, the mood of suspense is non-stop.) And few films have captured the frustration and tedium of making one's way through New York City's countless neighborhoods more effectively than this one.

It is unfortunate that THE WARRIORS will probably never be taken completely seriously by film critics and historians, in part because of the campy 2005 video game adaptation released in its "honor" (which I have played, and which is undeniably addictive and a hell of a lot of fun). But all those who are able to peer beyond the lens of the "cult" prejudice will be able to appreciate both Walter Hill's cinematic genius and his penchant for visual pizazz. From the opening image of a lit-up Ferris wheel - both innocent and eerie - to the final shot of a carefree romp along Coney Island's beach, THE WARRIORS is unforgettable.

"Listen boppers", this is a great gang flick that has a small crew chased down by every gang in NYC after they are wrongly accused of killing Cyrus (the local crime boss) at the Bronx Zoo. The Warriors have to make it from the Upper Bronx to Coney Island with every gang in town trying their own unique ways of knocking them off. Baseball mimes, Roller Skating posses, chick gangs, and of course, the "Riffs" do their darnedest to knock off the resilient Coney Island gang before they can make it back to their stomping ground. A local radio announcer (the woman from "Where in the World is Carmen San Deigo?") narrates their progress downtown, tipping off rivals and setting up further confrontation. A great movies for all ages.

I was working in a movie theater when The Warriors first came out, and remember well the flick and the hype surrounding it. Here's a few notes to clear up some misconceptions that many other commentors seem to have.

The flick was NOT ever intended to be an accurate portrayal of New York gang life, although there were some realistic elements. At the time it was generally accepted that it took place in the future, although nothing in the movie supports this. At best it can be considered an urban fable that takes place in a sort-of-imaginary world. You know, like Pulp Fiction (you think 90s LA gangsters dressed like that??).

Second, the film itself was not accused of inciting violence. Problem was, it was a VERY popular film with gang members, who would show up in force. Two rival gangs would show up at the same theater, and... you can figure the rest out yourself. One guy was killed on the first weekend the movie was playing in New York; after that, the distributor hired off-duty police for security at every theater across the country that showed the flick. In the small-town Midwest where I lived, this served more as advertising hype than anything else.

Finally, it was widely known back in the day that The Warriors was based on the ancient Greek nonfiction tale Anabasis, written around 370 BC by the Spartan general Xenophon (it's also published under the title The Persian Expedition). In this classic tale, a battalion of 10,000 Spartan mercenaries join the Persian emperor Cyrus for a war in Asia Minor (i.e. Turkey). Cyrus's army is defeated, the Spartan leaders are captured, and the remaining force must make their way across country, fighting various hostile tribes along the way, experiencing their own internal power struggles, until they reach the safety of the sea. I'm shocked that only one reviewer seemed to be familiar with this; in the 70s almost nobody talked about the movie without mentioning it.

Great flick, by the way, and it holds up extremely well over time. I'm sure the remake will suck.

Explaining what makes "The Warriors" a good movie and one that is so enjoyable to watch is simple. It's the style.

The style announces itself loudly in the opening scene/credit sequence. Each credit appears in the custom text style then recedes into the depth of the screen like a departing train disappearing down a tunnel. Characters engage in excited exchanges about a deity-like leader, Cyrus, who commands the city's most powerful gang, the Grammercy Riffs.

Everyone is heading to see him deliver a speech. And, boy, what a speech it is. He captivates the crowd of thousands by using his striking charisma and booming baritone.

Then the gathering is abruptly interrupted by an act of violence for which the Warriors are falsely blamed. Acting on this inaccurate information, all gangs seek to capture and/or kill the Warriors. Now the Warriors must brave the dangerous streets on a 28-mile journey to safety.

Queue the action sequences. We see a lot of fights and running. A LOT of running. It's all delightful and stylish.

Director Walter Hill boldly leaves his fingerprints everywhere, shaping the aesthetic and creating something unusually special.

He creates a world of gang warfare that has undertones steeped in reality, but none of the characters of the world they inhabit ever feel real. The movie much more closely resembles a comic book. At times this is played subtly, and in other scenes Hill makes this readily apparent by pausing certain frames on screen to make them look like boxes from a comic book.

Dialogue continues the comic book theme. Characters say strange things that no one in real life would ever utter. The camera even moves in an unnatural manner. The action sequences contain exquisite energy, yet they feel completely rehearsed. Viewers are constantly fed reminders that they are watching a movie. It's never meant to be a realistic experience.

None of that is to say that this movie isn't enjoyable or that it is poorly made. It's purely a stylistic choice that Hill makes, and it's an overtly intentional one.

Within the first few minutes, you will have a pretty good sense if this movie is for you. If you like the vibe early, you'll enjoy the movie. At the very least, this one is worth a shot.

Several scenes alone are worth the price of admission. What a burst of visual imagination assembling New York's gangs in a single place with an elevated Cyrus presiding at the center. It's a great piece of staging as the camera pans over the throngs of cheering youth decked out in their gang colors, enough to give the cops and everyone else the terminal shudders. Then again, how much worse would they be running the city than the gang of white-collar billionaires usually in charge. I sympathize with Swan when he surveys his dilapidated home turf saying it's a heck-uv-a place to have to return to. Seems to me he's got at least as much class as any New York politician. It's not the gangs that give rise to gangs, it's the people in charge who create the hopeless conditions.

Great color photography as Swan and the Warriors repeat an ancient Greek legend by battling their way home across miles of hostile territory. I like the realistic way macho insults are used to shame the reluctant into aggressive tactics—much the way the army does. Then again, boys will be boys, ready for a little side action, even when it's not the smart thing to do as several of the troops find out. The combat scenes may not be very realistic, but they are well choreographed. Another bit of clever staging-- the Rogues (I think) standing outside the Men's Room stalls and you know something's going to happen, but what? Then it's blitzkrieg with some slick choreography.

Smart bit of scripting to insert the two upper-class couples into the subway across from Swan and his cheap-looking girl (Mercy). It's a clash of classes, like the city itself. Notice Swan's hard-eyed stare and how he keeps Mercy from primping herself to look more presentable to their social betters. Swan knows the score. It's all about dignity, no matter where you come from or how you look. And despite all the fighting, I think that's what the movie's really about—dignity among the city's social rejects, how to get it and how to keep it. That way you know that even if you never get beyond your home turf, you still qualify at a basic level. That's also why at movie's end, we know Swan will never reach a place like the mayor's office. But that's okay because they know and we know-- he and his men do qualify. Good flick.