Week 15: The Warriors

Dear Avid Reader,

Yo cats and kittens. How's it flowing? You picking up what I'm putting down? You dig? Righteous. Right on.

Blogging time is nigh.

Warriors! Come Out To Pla-i-ay!

Everyone but my wife should like The Warriors. She hates it. I'm sure it's punishment from a past life. I'm sure of it. Everyone else should like the movie. But she is supposed to hate it. Just trust me.

The key question this flick brings up is if looking cool is enough to excuse criminal behavior. And the movie makes a pretty good case. You got, Electric Eliminators, Moonrunners, Rouges, The Freaking Awesome Baseball Furies, all of them violent, extortionist, thieves, but also impeccably costumed. Street crime dressed to the nines. America rules.

For All You Boppers Out There In The Big City

Now, real gangs don't go all out on the uniform. Obviously. Usually it's a color and that's all. After all, they have coke deals to get to. They haven't the time to be bothered on whether sequins or feathers gives the correct blend of intimidation and class when it comes to accessorizing their pork pie hats.

It's really a shame too that so little sophistication goes into modern criminal attire. Wouldn't the public be more sympathetic to a gang that had some flash? A crew that had matching green sweater vests would been seen as a little more interesting than thugs that simply had matching bandannas. The perception would be that the vested gang would be more adult, more organized, better. These aren't just some punk kids, they have their crap together. This gang is going places.

Can You Count Suckas?

Maybe better costumes would lead to less violence. If the fashion caught on, other gangs would engage in a arms race to see who could out-festoon who. Hand-held steamers would replace 9mm pistols. Runway walks instead of drive-bys. No more gang signs, only designer labels. This is the future!

But alas, this isn't how contemporary drug syndicates operate. Real gangsters would abandon this idea. After all, Cyrus also tried to bring order from the chaos and he was shot. Perhaps bringing sophistication to gang culture would end the same for me. Or maybe it isn't so much that street criminals can't handle high level thinking and constructs, rather the fact that these gangs are made up of the poor may prove the true roadblock to felonious haute couture. Picking the shotgun over the vinyl pants is a no-brainer when you are planning a heist on a tight budget. At least it is for now.

Well, Good! I'm Sick Of Runnin' From These Wimps!

Looking to the film's most intense moment we see the truth of how gangs live. During the final leg of the journey back to Coney, some teenagers board the subway car that the Warriors are on. They are laughing and joking, looking like they have just left their prom. The happy group meets eyes with Swan and Mercy. Both of them are marked and worn. Clothes wrinkled and loose. Swan's vest looks more like an attempt at a joke than an indication that he is ready to "bop" an enemy. The kids fall silent. They realize how wealthy they are, even though they aren't rich. They soften. Shame and guilt rip away at them. They are naked in the reality that they will always have more.

Mercy is also ashamed. She knows how poorly she looks. After all, poverty doesn't mean you're dumb. She understands. And as she moves to brush an errant hair from her face, Swan stops her. He refuses to show weakness. Swan also understands what is going on, but also realizes that if he accepts the pity, he admits that they have won. He continues to stare down the kids. He wants them to know that while his world has less, he is king of it. His stare seems to ask the question, "Which world are you in now?"

The teenagers blink first and get off at the next stop. Even though it has more treasure, their kingdom is smaller. They bow and walk out.

Long live the king of the subway.

Until Next I Blog,

James