THE WARRIORS (1979) High-concept gangs! What a curiously skewed optimism it must've taken to imagine all these racially integrated gangs in the future. Actually, the "sometime in the future" subtitle was removed from this film before its release (and, to my knowledge, has never been restored), which must've left viewers with the impression that they were watching a wildly distorted view of present-day (1979) gang life. The Warriors is an extremely fanciful movie, so much so that the cynical and sarcastic will have a blast laughing at it. But if you can tag along and accept its premises it's a fun time capsule, a solid chase movie, and there's really nothing else like it. If you're looking for realism, look elsewhere. There are lots of gangs in New York, and so far as I can tell they're mostly defined by what they wear. There are face-painted Yankee fans, black guys in purple fedoras and vests and polka-dotted ties, mimes with red sweaters and top hats, shirtless guys with straw hats, skinheads (some of them black!) in overalls, black guys in red karate suits, and inevitably, one gang with a gay leather boyz motif. And they're all on their way to a giant summit in the Bronx where weapons are prohibited, and the gangs look to Cyrus for leadership - Cyrus, who claims that the gangs can unite for a common purpose and overthrow the cops and, uh, you know, take what's theirs n' stuff. The details of his plan die with him when he's assassinated by one of the leather boyz (David Patrick Kelley, in one of his early nutjob roles), who frames the Warriors, who have come all the way from Coney Island. The karate guys (apparently Cyrus's sponsors, working as his security anyway) beat the crap out of the Warriors' leader and the rest of them try to get back to Coney Island with their hides intact. The Warriors don't have much of a schtick to them compared to the other gangs - brown, sleeveless vests, no shirts. This is one of the racially mixed gangs, but the black guys are curiously the most adorned with beads and feathers and tribal-type stuff. I don't know exactly what the Warriors stand for, or what there is in their gang code that differentiates them from everybody else. All these gangs with such different schticks invite speculation as to what must be their different natures - you can speculate all you want but you never really get any answers here. They flee home by foot and by subway, while a radio DJ taunts them with appropriate songs ("Nowhere to run to, baby...nowhere to hide") they can't possibly hear because it's not like any of them is carrying a radio. Every once in a while they run afoul of another gangs, starting small (the doped-up, childlike Orphans), while getting more dangerous (the baseball guys - these two are the only gangs which don't specifically look like artefacts from the 70's). The cops, too, and even the women they meet aren't what the Warriors at first think they are, though chances are you'll be well ahead of them (the Warriors generally aren't too bright). The plot of this movie has been compared to a few Greek narratives. Unlike a lot of 70's urban action flicks, inter-gang combat is pretty much non-lethal here (the most notable fatality, aside from the assassination, comes from a fight with a cop), though the climactic bathroom fight is an asskicker. The sets and locations all nicely convey New York City in hopeless, crime-infested decay (that the grave-desecrating Warriors are part of the problem is not dwelled on), with scarcely any people who aren't either gang members or cops, except for a foursome of carefree disco kids who show up and, I would imagine, intend more than ever to stay in school. Despite the too-colorful nature of its denizens, this seems like a real place and not a screenplay contrivance - running doesn't get you as far as trains do, trains don't always run when you want them to, and getting anywhere in a city this big is going to take a long time. Even though the heroes don't seem very smart, they're all portrayed by the right bunch of guys, including Michael Beck (and this intense glare) as the new leader (the fate of the surely-pulverized leader back in the Bronx is left to our imagination), and James Remar as the unpredictable hothead who makes some trouble but who you'd rather have on your own side. Well, maybe not if you're gay; at least three times he calls somebody a faggot and he doesn't mean it in a nice way. Less welcome is Deborah Van Valkenburgh, the Orphans' Lady Macbeth who tags along with the Warriors despite the likelihood of this getting her killed (her and Beck share one of the worst screen kisses I've ever witnessed). Walter Hill's directing debut. Apparently all sorts of gang violence accompanied this movie's opening weekend, setting the tone for that run of early-90's gangsta flicks which couldn't open up without a shooting or two. Watch for Mercedes Reuhl as a lady lounging alone...on a park bench...at night...in 1979 New York. Hmmmmm. BACK TO THE W's BACK TO THE MAIN PAGE