Should any of us live long enough to witness the introduction of a lifetime achievement award for general badassery, then The Warriors is certainly a shoo-in. (See also: Escape From New York.)
For the uninitiated – and by all means, initiate yourself at your earliest convenience – The Warriors is based off of Sol Yurick’s 1965 novel of the same name, itself based upon the story of Anabasis by the ancient Greek writer Xenophon, circa 370 B.C.. The Greek and Persian forces of the original are replaced by New York City street gangs in Yurick’s book and the subsequent movie.
The Warriors is both a cult classic and a rite of passage. One of those things you either get right off the bat (Baseball Furies!), or will never understand. Gallons of ink – later a googolplex of bits and bytes – has been spilt discussing this film.
In his original 1979 review, Roger Ebert described The Warriors as, “a stylized ballet of male violence.” Parents were outraged. Theater owners were afraid of the gang violence the film was sure to bring to their cinema. There were even efforts to band the movie outright. The Warriors rattled some nerves back in its day.
All the right ones.
Is it a violent movie? Not by today’s standard’s it’s not. Itchy & Scratchy showcases more violent acts in under a minute than The Warriors contains in ninety-four. When I was growing up the local stations used to air it all the time. The cursing was bleeped out of course, but the original violence was pretty much left intact.
The male violence isn’t the selling point. It’s the stylized ballet that holds up after all these years.
Just like the gang members themselves, The Warriors flows from frame to frame with animal grace. There is no wasted movement. Every scene has a point to make. A story to tell.
Exhibit A: Swan and Mercy on the subway engaged in a stare down with the clean-cut, presumably rich, kids that just boarded the car. The prom kids are having the night of their lives. Swan and Mercy are running for theirs. There is tension in the air. Mercy moves to fix her hair, to make herself more presentable, only to be stopped by Swan. It’s a lesson in pride and self-respect in the face of adversity. The scene is less than two minutes long and manages to tell more of a story than half the movies that came out after. Watch if for yourself. It’s that damned good.
It’s been forty years and people – myself included – are still obsessed with this movie. Search The Warriors on YouTube and you’ll find options a plenty. Reunion subway rides, “Where Are They Now” segments, tours of filming collections. The other day I even found a fan-made collection of DVD extras. This is a movie that breeds fanaticism. Sometimes too much. Plug The Warriors: Director’s Cut into your favorite search engine and prepare to witness a debate of Star Wars prequels proportions.
Here’s to the next forty years.