Misunderstood Masterpieces: The Warriors
Posted by Will Helm on 06.21.2005
…or, How Not to Endear Yourself to Readers and Colleagues
The so-called “cult” film, most noted for its counter-culture messages, low budgets, and rabid fan bases, found its apogee in the 1970s. From here, many of the most well-regarded “cult” films originate. When you step back and look at it, a list of merely a few of the films of the times is impressive – but not even scratching the surface:
In particular, the final three films highlight a particular genre of “cult” films of the era: post-Apocalyptic/dystopian science-fiction. Usually set in the near future and after a great catastrophe – plague, nuclear holocaust, all that happy stuff – these films get by with their nihilistic world view and one-man-against-everyone themes. For the next three weeks, I bring to you three films that find their start in the ‘70s – although one is a modern remake of one of those “cult” films – and each film features a future that could be, but we all hope doesn’t come to pass. Yes, it’s a “cult” film triple feature and we begin with one of the more well known – Rockstar Games is actually releasing a video game based on it – “cult” films, 1979’s The Warriors.
Written and directed by prolific action filmmaker Walter Hill, The Warriors examines just what would come to pass if the gangs of New York – exaggerated to dystopian excess – combined to take down one marked gang . . . the titular Warriors. Starring a bunch of unknowns – and a few future character actors – The Warriors is one of many “cult” films of the era now looked at fondly by fans and film aficionados . . . but does it deserve to be? Let’s take a look, dear readers, as I try not to upset the cult . . . or my colleagues in the process (some of them LOVE these movies).
In the near future Coney Island – which probably, in 1979, means 1985 – we see a creepy shot of the Wonder Wheel to set the mood at “dystopian.” Just in case you thought that public transportation was an outmoded form of conveyance in 1985, we also thrill as an elevated train pulls into the station. One of the Warriors, gang of that particular turf, informs his compatriots that some dude named Cyrus (Roger Hill) wants all of them to meet in peace at some undisclosed – at this time – location. The Warriors get onto the train and head off to destination unknown . . . OK, so it becomes known rather quickly: they’re going to the Bronx! And they’re not going to be alone, either, as a horde of pimps, mimes, guerillas, bikers, and ninjas stand around or walk through subway stations, presumably on their way to the same meeting. Either that, or it’s a convention of the World’s Least Threatening Gangs. Back on the train, we’re treated to several character moments with the Warriors, as we learn that Cleon (Dorsey Wright) is the leader; Swan (Michael Beck) is the quiet, intellectual one; and Ajax (James Remar . . . fake Rayden from Mortal Kombat: Annihilation) is the psychotic one in the group. The others really are of no importance, for the most part. The only important thing to note, and maybe this is their calling card, is that they’re all monotones . . . or terrible actors.
After a near-eternity on the subway, the Warriors finally disembark on Dyre Avenue in the aforementioned Bronx, which would put them at maybe one of the farthest points from Coney Island. Of course, tactically, that can’t be good . . . just in case anything goes wrong. But there shouldn’t be anything wrong, even though the local park where Cyrus is speaking is PACKED with rival gangs of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Cyrus, dressed as a cross between a televangelist and Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka, takes to the stage and addresses the audience of combined gangs. He then outlines his plans for a brave new world in New York City: he wants all of the gangs to unite under him and, together, they’ll take over the Empire . . . I mean “city.” The crowd, with thoughts of peaceful gangland rule dancing in their heads, goes wild. While the assembly celebrates, some cars show up around the park, hidden by the dark of night. After things calm down a bit, but before Cyrus can speak further, some crazy guy (David Patrick Kelly, star of Commando and The Adventures of Ford Fairlane) shoots Cyrus in front of all the gangs! That can’t be good . . . and it just gets worse as the mysterious cars surrounding the park spring to life and pour forth a swarm of police! All hell, as expected, breaks loose; it doesn’t get any better, especially for the Warriors, as the crazy guy frames them for the murder and some afro-ninjas beat Cleon down for it.
During the tumult, the rest of the Warriors escape to the nearby woods. Of course it looked like woods at first, but it’s actually a cemetery! Symbolism, anyone? The heat back at the meeting dies down and, in the safety of the cemetery, the Warriors regroup and figure out what to do next. After nary a moment of deliberation, they decide that the best course of action is to head back to Coney Island until things settle down in the city proper. Unfortunately, things aren’t quite settled between the Warriors as, after the decision is made, Ajax vies for power from Swan, who kind-of, sort-of made himself de-facto leader of the gang. Wow . . . it’s just like Ajax and Odysseus after the death of Achilles. Homer would be proud . . . if he wasn’t going “doh!” all the time. Meanwhile, the afro-ninjas (formally known as the Gramercy Riffs) assemble in a basement somewhere and their leader (Dennis Gregory), resplendent in a glittery jacket, addresses them. It seems that he wants to know just who these Warriors are . . . and then he wants REVENGE! Word gets out quickly, as a mysterious deejay (Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?’s Lynne Thigpen) broadcasts that the Warriors are, essentially, marked men and, in honor of that, she plays a cover of Martha & the Vandellas’ “Nowhere to Run.” While the song plays, we see hordes and scores of gangs waiting for the Warriors to drop by . . . and then it starts raining dramatically. Ooh . . . feel the ambience!
Somewhere in the Bronx, probably back at Dyre Ave., since the Warriors need the Number 5 train to Union Square, the Warriors wait patiently under a platform for the train. While some of the gang members get a bit antsy with Swan’s patience, his concerns are justified as a school bus full of multi-ethnic skinheads (specifically the Turnbull A.C.’s) drives by. Just when the Warriors think the TENSION has passed, the train shows up . . . and the skinheads double back, forcing the Warriors to make a run for the train! The A.C.’s chase them, both by bus and on foot – or they’re just trying to get to the nearest pub to see the replay of the Champions League final. They’re a gang of skinheads with “A.C.” in their nickname . . . of course they’re football – “soccer” for us Americans – hooligans. The Warriors, even though they’re not as aerodynamic as their pursuers, outrun the A.C.’s and get on the train. There is some rejoicing, but not much, as most of the Warriors think their troubles are behind them – literally – except for the master strategist Swan. He knows it’s just beginning, even though, sadly, he doesn’t actually say that wonderfully clichéd line.
It’s definitely a shame that he didn’t say it, as he’d have been right, because a fire on the tracks stops the train and, with it, the Warriors’ easiest escape route. So, more dangerously, they decide to continue on foot to the next station . . . or wherever their journey takes them. Elsewhere, the crazy guy makes a phone call to someone; it’s all very conspiratorial . . . although his gang – the Rogues – faces some dissention too, as they’re really not supposed to be gunning for the Warriors; that’s the Riffs’ job. Of course, since they’re Rogues and they’re crazy, they go off in search for the Warriors anyway.
Speaking of the Warriors, they find themselves trapped somewhere in the Bronx by the weakest gang in the city: the whiny, sweatshirt-clad Orphans. Surprisingly, what the Orphans lack in might, they make up for in number, which means that the Warriors are definitely in trouble. Luckily, the Orphans never went to the meeting, so they don’t know that the Warriors are wanted men; Swan, since he is the wise de facto leader, takes advantage of this fact and decides to chat. Perhaps taking a page from Sun-Tzu, Swan flatters the leader of the Orphans, using their insecurity to the Warrior’s advantage. The plan goes along swimmingly until – and isn’t this always the way? – some chick (Too Close for Comfort’s Deborah Van Valkenburgh) gets involved in the matter and causes trouble between the two gangs. It seems that she wants a vest from the Warriors . . . which makes sense, since she is wearing a see-through top. What would Ted Knight think!?! Actually, he’d probably be wondering just what the SuperFriends were doing. Anyway, Swan rebukes the chick’s request, so she does what any spurned woman would do in this situation and insults their manhood.
The Orphans, perhaps taking a note from the chick’s query, give the Warriors a pass through their turf . . . but only if they take off their vests. The Warriors, proud – ahem – warriors that they are, refuse and boldly head off to the next station. The chick, perhaps still wanting that vest, follows them . . . and then Ajax catches her tailing the gang. While Ajax wants a bit of nookie, Swan tells him to let her go, since – being a hooker and all – she’s probably crawling with diseases of a social sort. Ajax reluctantly complies, but the TENSION wastes enough time that the Orphans, perhaps wanting to reassert their manhood over the seemingly emasculated Warriors, show up on the scene to threaten our heroes. Swan, perhaps pitying the upstart, wannabe gang, elects to not take them all out by force; instead, he uses a hastily procured Molotov cocktail to blow up a car next to the assembled Orphans. Utilizing the impromptu conflagration as a distraction, the Warriors make a break for the next train station; they get back on . . . with the chick. Hmm.
Down in Gramercy, the Riffs report to their sparkling leader; meanwhile, concurrently, the deejay gives the gangs of the town notice as to the Warriors’ progress. Elsewhere, just to keep all the plotlines going, the crazy guy makes ANOTHER phone call; afterward, he decides that he’s going to meet the Warriors at 96th Street station and there’s going to be a reckoning once and for all. Well, maybe not, because, at 96th Street, the Warriors wait patiently for their transfer. Which transfer they want I have no idea, unless they either want the Number 4 Express or they ended up on the West Side. I’ll just go with it and say it’s the Number 4 they want, since that stops at Union Square, their next rendezvous point. Unfortunately, instead of the awaited train, the Warriors hear someone approaching . . . and it’s the fuzz! The Warriors hurry off the train and run for it; for some reason, their attempt to escape the Five-Oh turns into what looks like a musical number from Scooby Doo, Where Are You?, but without the forgettable ‘60s pop. While most of the Warriors escape, the chaos ends tragically for one of them as he – unnamed and mostly forgotten Fox (Thomas G. Waites, who was stricken from the credits and, hence, killed off early) – is thrown into the path of an oncoming train while scuffling with a cop. Either that, or they were trying to make out; rolling around on the floor looks like that sometimes.
Up on the streets where the Warriors find refuge, a horde of clowns in baseball uniforms (the Baseball Furies) appear out of nowhere and chase the Warriors. The chase continues into Central Park, where the Warriors wisely split up to throw off their pursuers. Hmm . . . for an action movie, there sure is a lot of running away. Maybe they got their strategy from watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail one too many times; it’s obvious that I got most of my jokes by doing the very same thing. Anyway, while the Furies are preoccupied by chasing a few of the Warriors, the remaining surviving Warriors outflank the Furies and begin the beatdown. The Furies, armed with their apropos baseball bats, surround Ajax, but before they can kill him off, a rumble breaks out. The Warriors, unarmed and outnumbered, vanquish the Furies, much to my surprise. It must be Swan’s top-notch de facto leadership is the secret to their success. Of course, it’s probably not as good as sleeping with your uncle’s hot wife, but it leaves far fewer psychological scars. Michael J. Fox would be proud.
The deejay, our ersatz narrator for the picture I suppose, checks in once more and runs down the Warriors’ scorecard. Meanwhile, down at Union Square station, three of the Warriors wait . . . until they’re distracted by a group of chicks standing at the foot of a stairway. In the immortal words of Dane Cook: “Dude! Chicks!” Back in Central Park, the other Warriors find a chick (future Oscar-winner Mercedes Ruehl) just sitting on a park bench, minding her own business. Ajax, with prurient thoughts running through his head, decides he wants some nookie; the other Warriors protest, but he heads back to keep the woman company . . . if you know what I mean. And I think you do. Well, at least I hope you do . . . and you probably hope so too. Swan, who already seems to have a female companion – even though she is a hooker – tells his two compatriots to watch out for Ajax, I suppose because he has a penchant for getting in trouble. If so, this is no exception, as just when Ajax gets a bit fresh with the chick she handcuffs him to the bench! She’s a cop! Ajax gets busted for his impudence, proving, once again, that cooler heads will always prevail . . . and not get arrested by the vice squad in the middle of Central Park.
Later, Swan, the lone Warrior, gets to the next station or, seemingly, back to 96th Street. Hmm . . . confusing. Wherever it is, the chick is there waiting for him and now, probably much to his chagrin, she’s got a stolen coat on to cover her immodesty. She’s also there for a reason: she knows an easy and quick way to get to Union Square, but all Swan has to do is trust her. But, of course, since she belittled the Warriors’ collective manhood earlier, that means that Swan can do nothing but trust her. Verbal emasculators: imminently trustworthy. Elsewhere in the station, there is a hint of TENSION as a random beat cop runs into Swan and the chick; the cop, living up to his nomenclature, gets beat by Swan, allowing him and the chick to escape from his law-enforcing clutches.
Downtown, the group of chicks from Union Square station brings the Warriors to an abandoned pizzeria, probably with promises of fun and frolic. They identify themselves as the Lizzies; oddly enough, most of them are thin. Phil Lynott would be proud. The lead Lizzie informs the trio of Warriors that they can have their pick of ladies for companionship; Rembrandt (Marcelino Sánchez), the wimpiest of the Warriors, is apprehensive, but his brethren dive right in, so to speak. Elsewhere, deep in the bowels of the subway system, Swan and the chick walk the tracks and have a little chat along the way. The chick, since she’s trying to be helpful and “part of the group,” wants to get to know Swan a little better – in the innocent sense – but he spurns her because he doesn’t approve of her lifestyle. She takes offense, mainly because she’s the Philosopher’s Stone of streetwalkers: the atypical hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold. She defends herself by saying that she lives day-by-day . . . having syphilis will do that to you. Of course, since it’s essentially the most nonsensical thing to do in this situation, Swan and the chick make out; he digs it, but he wants to get to the station before he goes further. She begs him for a bit of his little Warrior, but her enthusiasm merely annoys Swan. And what kind of nickname is “Swan” anyway?
Down at the pizza shop, forgoing the traditional sock hop, the Warriors – save Rembrandt, who is still cautious – and the Lizzies get busy. After some aforementioned fun and frolic, the Lizzies turn on the Warriors since they want a piece of the Riffs’ bounty too. After a short scuffle, the Warriors bust out of the place; luckily for them, the only casualty is a slash on Rembrandt’s hand, mainly because the Lizzies can’t shoot straight. Seriously, they shot at the Warriors five or six times and missed with every single attempt. It’s almost worse than Vincent Damphousse.
Funny anecdote: back in the day, whenever I played with the San Jose Sharks in more recent versions of Electronic Arts’ NHL games, I would always take shots with winger Vincent Damphousse and, every time, he would miss the net by a mile for no particular reason. Hence, anyone who can’t shoot straight has a terrible case of “Vincent Damphousse Disease” . . . just like the Lizzies. Speaking of which, after escaping from the furious, scorned women, the Warriors FINALLY figure out just why they’ve been on the run throughout the entire picture: they’re wanted men! Sadly, not on twelve systems, though.
Later, Swan – the lone Warrior – walks through Union Square station. Meanwhile, following closely behind is a guy in overalls and rollerskates! Lookout, Swan! It’s the Leo Sayer Gang! In another part of the station, the other Warriors meet up and wait around for the next train. Hmm . . . for an action movie, there really is a lot of waiting. Also, the chick is at the station too, and she “helpfully” informs Swan that the rollerskate guys – the Punks . . . and I hope I don’t have to explain just what that means in this context – are on his tail. Swan, too cool for even the chick, tells her that he knows . . . and that now they know he knows. And that she should follow her nose because it always knows. And knowing is half the battle. Yo Joe! Anyway, Swan finally rendezvous with the rest of the Warriors . . . and then they all go to the bathroom. Even the chick! The Punks, since they’re very familiar with what goes on in some men’s room stalls, follow but, instead of a little more fun and frolic, it’s an ambush! The Warriors easily take down the off-balance – literally and figuratively – Punks and head for the train and the safety of Coney Island.
Once again, the leader of the Riffs finds out what’s going on . . . but there’s also a SHOCKING PLOT DEVELOPMENT: the Riffs found an eyewitness to Cyrus’ shooting! Dum-dum-deus ex machina! On the train to Coney Island, the Warriors chat about their terrible night, until they’re interrupted by the Disco Prom Teens! OK, so they’re not really a gang; it’s just a quartet of teenagers – apparently coming home from the prom – who decided to get on the same subway as the Warriors. Things get really awkward and uncomfortable until the next stop, where the Disco Prom Teens wisely get off. In the non-sexual sense. Of course, running into the Warriors may have put the kibosh on the other meaning of that euphemism as well, as there’s nothing terribly alluring about a dingy, sweaty gang . . . unless you like that sort of thing.
While the sun rises over Coney Island, the train stops at Stillwell Avenue and the Warriors – with the chick in tow – are safely at home. Swan, hopeless romantic that he is, gives a corsage that one of the Disco Prom Teens dropped to the chick, mainly because he doesn’t like to see things go to waste. Hmm . . . I sense a lot of meaning in that statement. The chick, perhaps not wanting to go to waste herself (or see Swan’s manhood go to waste surrounded by a bunch of other guys) decides to stick around. While the Warriors contentedly stroll the streets of their turf, unbeknownst to them, they’re followed by a graffiti-covered version of the GhostBusters’ Ecto I with the Rogues inside! Swan, as he is almost preternaturally precognizant, senses danger, so he alerts his fellow Warriors, who arm themselves in kind.
After a few tense, silent moments, the crazy guy, from the safety of his car, entreats the Warriors to “come out and play.” Either that, or he’s trying out to be the front man of a hair metal band. He’s definitely got the voice, hair, wardrobe, and obvious drug addictions for it. Swan, not wanting to concede the home-turf advantage to the Rogues, decides that the final showdown will be on the beach instead of at the amusement park. Once down at the shoreline, the Rogues find the Warriors waiting for them; the crazy guy, sensing the end of the film is near, reveals that he killed Cyrus for no particular reason. Hmm . . . so just who was he on the phone with throughout the entire picture? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. Mmm . . . Tootsie Pop. They have blue raspberry now, which is kind of disappointing, as the regular raspberry was colored just different enough from the grape and the cherry to tell apart. Oh, and does anyone ever enjoy the chocolate ones? They seem awfully redundant to me.
Anyway, Swan requests a one-on-one showdown with the crazy guy; the crazy guy obliges, but then he muddles the matter by pulling out a gun! Swan, perhaps a ninja in addition to being a de facto gang leader and master tactician – and tender lover – pulls out a knife and throws it into the crazy guy’s shooting arm, making him drop the gun just as a futile shot goes off. Wow . . . now if that’s not a symbol for impotence, I don’t know what is! Next thing you know, we’ll find out he was shooting blanks. While the crazy guy squeals in pain, the Riffs arrive on the scene and surround the two gangs. The Riffs’ leader, who may or may not be wearing the glittery jacket of power on the beach, forgives the Warriors . . . and then they surround and, apparently, tear the crazy guy to pieces. Finally, the helpful deejay informs the gangs that the Warriors aren’t guilty after all – I guess it was the Los Angeles County Prosecutor’s Office behind the case. The Warriors stand triumphantly on the beach while Joe Walsh takes us to the credits.
All in all, The Warriors is far from a terrible movie; it’s quite entertaining, but it does have that inherent feel of a guilty pleasure. While not a work of art by any stretch of the imagination, it is certainly a nifty flick . . . which is something I know I don’t say every day. Of course, the main onus of the film is the terrible, monotonous acting; understandable, as most of the cast became either steadfast action actors or character actors. In summation, The Warriors cannot be considered at all a masterpiece, but it is most definitely a Misunderstood Masterpiece.
Join me next week as we take a cross-country trip . . . pedestrians be damned! See you then!
