Flick of The Day: King of New York

I have looked at the decline of New York City in the 70's and 80's previously in my reviews of  Scorsese's Bringing Out The Dead and  James Gray's We Own The Night and it is indeed a rich canvas for filmmakers to work with. Abel Ferrara has long used this as his milieu with some successes such as 1992's Bad Lieutenant and  some notable failures such as today's flick of the day, King of New York. During its premiere at the 1990 New York Film Festival, much of the audience walked out including Ferrara's own wife. In the years since its release it has come to be seen for what it is, a stylish b-movie oddity with an uneven script that is held together by a towering performance from Christopher Walken as the drug kingpin of the title.

King of New York

Opening with the release from prison of Frank White, played by Walken, the film depicts the grimy underbelly of New York from the backseat of a limousine in a memorable opening sequence. After his stint behind bars Frank is acutely aware of how his exploitation of society as a drug trafficker had made him a wealthy man. Determined to give something back to the neighbourhood, he sets out to reclaim his throne and finance the construction of a hospital with his ill gotten gains. To do this he needs the help of the various factions which control the city. Much like an episode of the PlayStation series Grand Theft Auto, each of the gangs are represented along racial lines. There are Asians, Italians, Colombians and African Americans each nastier than the last and again much like a computer game, their refusal to bow to Frank leads to scenes of highly stylised violence usually led by Frank's right hand man Jimmy Jump, played with manic abandon by Laurence Fishburne. Ultimately Frank's attempts to do good lead to a major gang war where even hard nosed cops led by David Caruso are out to get him before a dramatic bullet riddled finale in Times Square.

It should be plain by now that I don't view this film as a classic by any means but that is not to say it doesn't ask some interesting questions about the effects of the drug trade on a city and its people. Released at the end of the Reagan 80's when the war on drugs became front page news, this film pointedly shows how much of a failure these efforts had been. Frank views himself as a businessman and as he puts it:

"You think ambushing me in some nightclub's gonna stop what makes people take drugs? This country spends $100 billion a year on getting high, and it's not because of me. All that time I was wasting in jail, it just got worse. I'm not your problem. I'm just a businessman. "

This could have been a thrilling examination of one man's rise and fall but too often the script resorts to stock cliché's from Gangster 101. Ferrara's visual flights of fancy while stylish and beautiful often detract from the film, giving it a cartoonish air, something enforced by the sheer frivolity of characters like Jimmy Jump and bullet strewn scenes that don't serve to move the plot forward. Very much a missed opportunity.

If the film has a redeeming factor it is the performance of Christopher Walken. A real talent when it comes to playing menacing villains, he shines throughout as Frank. Imbuing the character with a sociopathic streak while still making a case for him being the most sane character in the film, Walken carries the film when the script lets itself down.

Roy Bishop: You expected to get away with killing all these people? 

Frank White: I spent half my life in prison. I never got away with anything, and I never killed anybody that didn't deserve it. 

Roy Bishop: Who made you judge and jury? 

Frank White: Well, it's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

While far from the car crash its premiere would have suggested and not worthy of the opprobrium heaped upon it on it release, this is a deeply flawed film with an uneven script and visual tone. Walken is strong enough to make the film watchable but it is no more then that. As a time capsule it takes some beating though, capturing a city and a period that has long since passed into the realm of urban myths. The New York underworld during the 80's? No it was never as stylish as even Abel Ferrara imagines but then what is?

Flick of The Day: Pulp Fiction

I realised the other day that it is now 17 years since Quentin Tarantino unleashed Pulp Fiction on the world and felt compelled to view it again, to see if it was still as ground breaking, if the dialogue still sparkled with the same lustre, if it was still as effortlessly otherworldly cool as it seemed upon its first release.

Pulp Fiction (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)

This is the film that spawned so many Tarantino imitators, exhibiting as it does all of his traits: literate snappy dialogue, pop culture references galore, an ironic sense of humour, non linear storytelling and violence. The story such as it is, takes place over a number of days in the Los Angeles criminal underworld. There are seven narrative sequences and we view them in a non linear order. This is played out by an ensemble cast to die for, each perfectly suited to their roles. John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson are a pair of heavies in classic black suits. Jackson quoting scripture and Travolta with a chip on his shoulder and a penchant for Cheeseburgers. Uma Thurman is the drug addled gangster's moll. Harvey Keitel is the fixer known as The Wolf. Bruce Willis is the over the hill pugilist. Ving Rhames is the Kingpin. Christoper Walken appears in a blink and you'll miss it flashback scene which at first glance appears to be there merely to show off but then later it slots neatly into the overarching narrative in a beautiful symmetry. This is just a small fraction of an extensive cast.

The dialogue is justly lauded, with the screenplay which Tarantino co wrote with Roger Avary winning the Oscar in 1994. There are numerous quotable lines, the "Royale with cheese" being the most infamous. My personal favourite is the interplay between John Travolta and Samuel Jackson.

"Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing.
Vincent: It's not. It's the same ballpark.
Jules: Ain't no fuckin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same fuckin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit."

A fine script combined with some career best acting performances and a soundtrack perfectly suited to the ambience of the film equals a minor classic and perhaps the most influential film of the '90s. It revitalised Travolta's flagging career, gave Bruce Willis some much needed acting kudos and set Tarantino on the inexorable rise to stardom. 

Watching it again, 17 years on, I was struck by the fact that this still marks the high point of his career as a director. He has never eclipsed it. Jackie Brown was fine, although retreading similar ground to Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. Kill Bill had its moments but was uneven and the story was spread too thin for two films.The less said about Death Proof the better and while the opening half an hour of Inglourious Basterds was excellent, it went steeply down hill from there. Not a whole lot to show for one of the most prodigious talents to emerge from the Indie scene of the early '90s. That said, this is an enviable high point.