I can't believe I hadn't seen The Warriors before now. Maybe God or the universe knew I wasn't ready for it until this past weekend. But, oh, what a ride! Have you ever experienced something so surreal you couldn't believe it actually happened? That sums up this movie. The plot is simple and easy to follow: A rag-tag gang of skinny, dancing sociopaths whose sole membership requirement seems to be "refusal to remove maroon leather vest under any circumstance" (The Warriors) entrechat their way out of Coney Island and into our hearts when they are falsely accused of killing a Polynesian gang-banger whose wholesome aim was to unite all gangs, take over NYC and, we are left to assume, cause mayhem. I know what you're thinking: Not fair! The Warriors didn't do it! But it gets worse. All the other area gangs (who are, let's say, themed (one gang's silent members all don Yankee baseball uniforms and wear makeup a la Marilyn Manson)) are after The Warriors because that Samoan was going to bring unity to the community, dammit! What? All of this is made more surreal by an R & B DJ played by a pair of lips who fuels the opposing gangs' fires, an Oscar-worthy performance by a circa-Fast Times at Ridgemont High Sean Penn lookalike who plays what I (thankfully) can only assume is a realistic bat-shit crazy anarchist, and an un-ironic director's commentary in which Walter Hill continually refers to The Warriors as heroes. Again. . .what?
All in all, a great movie. 10 Stars.
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