Heading Home with “The Warriors”

New York, New York, a helluva town
The Bronx is up, and the Battery's down
The people ride in a hole in the groun'

 That’s the deathless lyric from On the Town, the Leonard Bernstein/Comden & Green musical delight that was a hit on Broadway and later on the silver screen. There are a lot of references to underground travel in this show, including the fact that its leading lady is first seen on a subway poster proclaiming her as the current “Miss Turnstiles.” (Yes, for years pretty New Yorkers really vied to be named Miss Subways.)

 No question that a lot of great movies are set on the sidewalks of New York, whether we’re talking about romantic comedies like Breakfast at Tiffany’s or crime dramas like Mean Streets or Woody Allen’s quirky valentines to his native city. And the world under the sidewalk is featured in some explosive thrillers, including The Incident (1967) and The Taking of Pelham 123 (1974 and 2009), where much of the action is confined to a subway car under siege. But I just saw a movie that should take the prize for its continual focus on the  ins and outs of the New York transit system.

 Walter Hill’s The Warriors (1979), today regarded as a cult classic, has an unusual origin story. The novel on which it is based was inspired by historical writings from ancient Greece, Xenophon’s Anabasis. This is an account of a Greek army, known as the Ten Thousand, and its desperate struggle to return home from a bloody expedition in Persia. How times have changed! Both the Sol Yurick novel and the film are set among street gangs in New York City. There’s a meant-to-be-peaceful confab in the Bronx, at which a charismatic leader named Cyrus (a nod to the story’s classical roots) outlines a plan for the gangs to join forces in order to outnumber the cops and dominate the city. But, uh oh!, Cyrus is suddenly shot dead by an unhinged punk—who manages to spread the word that the leather-vested Coney Island gang called the Warriors are responsible.

 The nine Warriors on whom the story focuses want only to get back to their home turf in Southern Brooklyn, some thirty miles away. That’s why, late at night, they’re in and out of subway stations, desperately trying to evade the other gangs that are bent on punishing them for something they didn’t do. Along the way they get accosted, get tricked, sometimes make foolish choices, and end up with a young woman who’s as tough as they are. It’s an odyssey that’s sometimes funny, sometimes terrifying, but always exhilarating to watch.

 Director Walter Hill decided early on that a purely realistic story about street gangs wouldn’t work. His choice was to amp up the film’s slightly futuristic dark humor, especially seen in the costuming of the various gangs. Though the central nine look appropriately tough in their leathers, other groups go in for more outrageous garb. Like the bat-swinging group who dress in vintage baseball uniforms. And the hippie types, and the ones in bright orange karate-gi. And (my favorites) the gangsters in white face paint who look like French mimes.

 A comic book fan, Hill added to the director’s cut scene-ending “splash panels” in which the live figures briefly turn into drawn images. They add to the larger-than life sense of a timeless story that’s mostly about going home. The sight of the ocean at the end of their long journey is moving indeed. Kudos to Hill and to the novice actors involved with this low-budget gem.