NYC in the Raw, Issue 1: THE WARRIORS (1979)
While my feelings have sometimes wavered between frustration and adoration, one thing has always been true – I love living in NYC. Whether it was being born in Brooklyn, living in Richmond Hill for my childhood, getting my first apartment in Flushing and now living in my own house out in Nassau (I know, not really NYC, but not too far away), I have always enjoyed being in the most diverse city on the planet. The concrete jungle. So many kinds of people, ways of life, methods of madness, all boiling in a single city roughly 300 sq. miles, resulting in a powder keg of energy that can result in pure bliss or explicit anarchy. For 2025, I wanted to create a series of articles focusing on movies that have taken place and, most importantly, were shot in and around NYC. Specifically, I wanted to focus on films that took place during a period in the city that I have a fondness for in terms of its visual aesthetic and general grungy element, the wild and unpredictable decades of the 70s, 80s, and 90s.
To kick it all off, I locked into a film that I came to very late in life, 1979’s The Warriors. I first saw Walter Hill’s dystopian saga a few years back when I picked up a DVD of the Alternate Version cut of the film. This cut – which is not the preferred version for most fans – included comic book panel interludes at various points across the film to connect one scene to another. I was blown away by the pure pulp nature of the film, the colorful array of gangs and characters strewn about, and the propulsive story that gets going right from the start. Over the years, I have developed a real fondness for the gritty and wild tale of a gang just trying to get back to their home turf, and a big part of that is the very down and dirty representation we get of NYC across its 90+ minute running time.
The late 70s was quite a grungy time for the city that never sleeps, and Hill’s vision of a metropolis overrun by a colorful collection of gangs is well suited for the rough and tumble landscape of New York. Starting off on the D (or B, pending on conflicting shots) train from Coney Island, we follow our main protagonists, a local gang called The Warriors, assembled of such characters as 2nd in command Swan (Michael Beck), hothead Ajax (James Remar), young spray painter Rembrandt (Marcelino Sanchez) and cool and collected Cleon (Dorsey Wright), as they make their way to a gathering of all NY gangs up in the Bronx in a place called the Conclave (which was filmed actually at Riverside Park up on 96th St). The largest gang in the city, the Gramercy Riffs, engineered a temporary truce among all the groups across NYC, and with a riveting speech by leader Cyrus (Roger Hill in a memorable performance), suggests they could become one large gang and take over the city one borough at a time. All goes awry after he is assassinated by psychotic Luther (David Patrick Kelly, channeling all the crazy and them some) and blames it on the Warriors. Now this small gang from Coney must make its way back to their home turf, but they must travel across the entire city and, with the truce seemingly off, every gang out to get them.
New York is a living, breathing entity in The Warriors. It’s an aggressive, dangerous place where everything is somewhat familiar, but anything can kill you at a moment’s notice. The gangs seemingly even have their own radio station, broadcasting threatening, catchy tunes to the Warriors such as “Nowhere to Run” as a woman updates on the progress of apprehending the Warriors. Hill understood the assignment and filmed various major sequences – the Warriors outrunning the Turnbull AC’s under the elevated train station, their brief skirmish with low level gang The Orphans, the Baseball Furies fight in the park near the 96th St station, and the climatic standoff between Luther and his gang the Rogues + the Warriors back in Coney Island (with the iconic scene of Luther clanking three bottles together, slowly taunting by asking the Warriors to “come out to plaaaaay”) – all on location across various spots in Manhattan, Queens and Brooklyn. My personal favorite sequence in the flick is the bonkers battle royale that takes place in what must be the largest public bathroom in the transit system at Union Square with a gang I believe is just called the Punks. I truly love the visual splendor of Coney Island. A place that has great clashing landscapes of apartment buildings, seaside grimy food eateries, sandy beaches, the crashing waves of the blue ocean and, of course, the amazing and iconic Wonder Wheel. It’s a beautiful disaster of wonderment and is a NYC landmark.
is a movie about irredeemable people committing unlawful behavior. The film may be following a gang who are technically our protagonists, but the Warriors are not a collection of good people. They commit violent crimes, cause property damage, consistently speak of trying to get some “action”, and even half joke about running a “train” on their newest tag along, Mercy (Deborah Van Valkenburg). The Warriors don’t deserve any good fortune or positive karmic energy, yet we still find ourselves wanting them to make it home to the sunny shores of Coney. True, they were framed for a murder they did not commit, but who can truly say what other atrocities they have committed on their home turf. There is one moment of levity where Swan and Mercy are finally on their way to Coney, and a couple of wedding guests board the train. The way Hill frames the joyous wedding people, looking down on them as if they are less than makes you feel for these two lost souls. When Mercy tries to fix her hair to “fit in” with the appearance of these “normal” people, Swan immediately snaps her hand down. The wedding revelers change train cars at the next stop. It does make you feel sympathy for the life Swan and Mercy must contend with, the path that lies ahead of them that can’t be truly changed.
It also dawned upon me, which is completely owed to a fellow co-worker’s observation, that this movie has some strong gay overtones running throughout, a stark contrast to the machismo attitude on display. The Warriors are a gang of shirtless men who wear open vests showing off their sweaty, hairy chests at every turn. Most of the gangs in the movie are overly dressed, flashy makeup wearing caricatures that seemingly walked off a comic book page. All the gangs in the movie are comprised men except the sole female group in the bunch, the Lizzies (who have an iconic sequence as well, not to feel left out). The gangs in this movie are no different than any sports team. An assortment of men wearing uniforms, engaging in macho (but slightly homoerotic) behavior, and forming a strong bond that can easily be misconstrued as true love. It’s a read that some people may not agree with, but after throwing on the movie again recently, the visual representation at various points can support the notion. Its not the main point I pull out of the film whenever I watch it, but it is part of the vernacular related to the film’s aesthetic.
The Warriors is a grand comic book epic that fully utilizes the late 70s landscape of the greatest city in the world, and fills it with outlandish characters, iconic fight sequences, lavish costumes, and enough testosterone to shake a stick at (with a side of homoerotic undertones). It’s an utterly enjoyable piece of 70s New York perfectly preserved, and it should be revered as a piece of city history.
