If you’re reading this site semi-regularly, it should come as no surprise that I spend a lot of time thinking about the various media and pop culture of my youth. I’m feeling particularly nostalgic right now, thanks to the seasonal switch from summer to autumn, which always puts me in the mood to reflect on any number of things that bring me comfort and joy. One of the constant sources of entertainment and enjoyment from my ‘80s and early ‘90s youth came courtesy of “New York’s movie station”—WPIX, Channel 11.
WPIX introduced me and countless other kids in the New York tri-state area to a seemingly endless array of classic and contemporary films. Venerable blogger Dinosaur Dracula already paid the ultimate tribute to WPIX, and I echo every single word of it. WPIX stands shoulder-to-shoulder with other giants from my youth—Elvira, Rhonda Shear, Joe Bob Briggs—all of whom introduced me to an absurdly large number of movies I’ve loved ever since.
In late September I rewatched one of my favorites from those WPIX days and nights: Abel Ferrara’s King of New York (1990). Gawd, I must’ve watched Ferrara’s gangster masterpiece dozens of times over a several-year period, thanks to WPIX. In many ways, it’s one of the ultimate WPIX movies: it’s from the sweet spot year of 1990, it’s about as gritty New York as gritty New York movies of that gritty New York era ever got, and—most importantly—it’s a stone-cold classic. It’s addictively rewatchable.
King of New York begins with drug lord Frank White (Christopher Walken) being released from prison. What follows is his reintegration into both the New York underworld and social scene. With the aid of his right hand man Jimmy Jump (Laurence Fishburne), Frank immediately makes moves to consolidate power by taking out other drug lords in the city. As this street war escalates and the bodies pile up, NYPD detectives Bishop (Victor Argo), Gilley (David Caruso), and Flanagan (Wesley Snipes) work to bust White and his accomplices but are stimied at every turn. White and the renegade cops are on a collision course that’s likely to have few, if any, survivors.
Things happen in this movie. Some movies are a few good scenes interspersed with some yawn-inducing filler. Not King of New York. Every scene is supercharged. A host of young actors on the rise—Fishburne, Snipes, Caruso—practically burst through the screen, their charisma so undeniable that future stardom was never in doubt. After Jimmy Jump orders ten pounds of fried chicken and barbecue spare ribs at a midtown fast food joint, Gilley and company burst in to arrest him. Jimmy whips the bags of food at a charging Gilley, who then spits in Jimmy’s face, after which Jimmy wipes up the spit with his fingers before licking them clean—and this is where you shout “Oh no he didn’t.” But he did! And that’s just one example. So, yeah, things happen in this movie.
What else happens? Well, watch the movie, but here are a few moments to entice you:
Ferrara and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli’s camera lingers on bodies and faces, turning these closeups into artistic, visual statements. That’s why almost every frame of the film feels iconic.
The brief closeup of Frank’s bodyguard Raye, played by Theresa Randle, methodically adjusting her thigh high stockings and garter belt are five of the hottest seconds ever committed to celluloid.
The film is littered with gorgeous women lounging in lingerie while bumping lines of coke off men’s chests. Ferrara and Bazelli objectify and fetishize the female form in this film like nobody’s business, yet manage to make it all look and feel like high art.
Caruso delivers an insanely good monologue in a bar—“I thought we were what’s right. I thought the law counted for something. But this whole system favors the scumbag.” It’s a blistering speech and Caruso is outstanding.
Fishburne taunts Snipes: “Black man!”
Fishburne’s unhinged, maniacal laughter rivals the Joker’s.
Quiet, stoic brilliance from Victor Argo.
Walken plays White as a detached, dispassionate man who senses his time is coming to an end. He’s like a wraith haunting every scene.
Walken’s haunted performance is perfectly complemented by longtime Ferrara collaborator Joe Delia’s haunting, elegiac score.
An epic shootout in Chinatown.
An epic car chase across the Queensboro Bridge.
Shocking deaths.
Not one, but two memorable subway scenes.
A haunting, wordless denouement during a Times Square traffic jam.
Those are just some of the things that happen in a movie chock full of memorable moments. It’s perfectly fitting that “New York’s Movie Station” introduced me to Abel Ferrara’s New York masterpiece, King of New York. These days I can catch the film on streaming or pop in the Blu-ray, but I’ll always associate it with those WPIX viewings, back in the early ‘90s.
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