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 Wimpy ‘Warriors’: Can you dig it? A Review By Beth E. Concepción For years, my husband has used hushed tones of reverence when speaking of “The Warriors,” Walter Hill’s 1979 cult flick about New York street gangs. Each time I reminded him that I hadn’t seen it, he would go into paroxysms of “How can this be?” Because we don’t get out much anymore (a teething tot puts a damper on date night), I decided to watch it to get him off my back. The movie is about a gang (The Warriors, of course) who leave their home base of Coney Island to attend a big gang shindig in the Bronx. Apparently, nine delegates from each of the gangs in all five boroughs are summoned to attend the meeting which is hosted by the city’s biggest gang, the Gramercy Riffs. Their leader, Cyrus, has a plan to bring all the gangs together to take on the police and rule the streets. At this gathering, Cyrus is shot and The Warriors get the blame. So, the movie revolves around The Warriors as they try to make their way back to Coney Island without getting jacked up by the police or the other gangs. The movie was a success when it first came out, but then Paramount pulled it, claiming gang violence at theaters. I would have pulled it simply because one of the gangs wears baseball uniforms and Braveheart-style painted faces. Besides the Baseball Furies (whatever), another gang — The Boppers — wears purple waistcoats and purple hats and looks like they could be called The Pimps. Another gang looks like a group of mimes, but my husband coolly informed me that they are The High Hats. Roger. At any rate, the movie is entertaining primarily because it takes itself so seriously and it is so clearly from a different, more innocent time. Perhaps at the time it was made, the fight scenes and token phrase, “Warriors, come out and play-ay,” might have seemed menacing and dangerous. Now, not so much. It is kind of sad how favorite movies from those formative years can look so cheesy through the filter of adulthood. For example, “Salem’s Lot” scared the bejesus out of me when I was young. Now, well, not so much. I could almost feel my poor husband deflating as we watched the movie. I’m sure it didn’t help that I was laughing in all the wrong spots. Well, I guess we’re even. I made him sit through “Better Off Dead,” after all. |
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