Alright boppers, boys and girls, today we’re coming in loud and hard with Walter Hill’s most funky, most groovy 70s joint The Warriors. Can I dig it? I most definitely can, but that won’t stop the carnival of pests in vests seeming a damn sight too goofy for my tastes, if you know what I’m saying. Lines are as dialled up as the times are riled up, and if it wasn’t for the presence of the one and only David Patrick…
I’m not going to entertain the idea of actually dissecting this, and the fact I could even watch a mass-marketed restoration this well rendered displays many a betrayal, not least my own for watching it. Kubrick attempted many times to destroy every negative of his feature debut, but to no avail. If you absolutely must, watch guiltily for the silent film elements of Griffith and Kubrick’s delectable compositions, everything else is a total shambles, almost singlehandedly proving why he was notorious…
“Don’t you get it? Before Joe Gillis came along, Norma Desmond was fucking the monkey!”
— Billy Wilder
Let’s face it, in the 40s and 50s Wilder practically owned film-noir, his effortless ability to blend cynical characters and fatalistic plot with the symbolic minutiae of a scene never anything short of breathtaking. Take the anklet in Double Indemnity, or in this case, a smoking cigarette trapped in an abstract finger contraption. No director has so attentively given both focus and…
5% structural perfection. 10% satire. 15% Hollywood criticism. 20% Nicolas Cage. 20% Nicolas Cage. 15% existentialism. 10% loneliness. 5% fantastical masturbation. Being John Malkovich is indeed as great as they say, but Being Charlie Kaufman is in a whole other league. I won’t see a film that’ll rock me like this for a long, long time.
“Neither the flower nor the insect will ever understand the significance of their lovemaking. I mean, how could they know that because of their little dance the world lives? But it does.”