Jesus...where in Sam Hill did this come from, Fulci? You wouldn’t let a single kiss occur on-screen in The House by the Cemetery; one year later, you’ve got a dude jamming his nasty toes into some chick’s snatch.
The New York Ripper is unbelievably rancid. It’s a film that’s been carefully brined in sleaze and pure nastiness, the likes of which caught me completely off-guard. It is for this reason I enjoyed it so.
Also, at some point the killer’s Donald Duck voice…