KING OF NEW YORK-1990

Director Abel Ferrara (Bad Lieutenant, Ms. 45) has always been a filmmaker who’s gotten by more on style than by making films with any kind of narrative substance. Even his best works (Bad Lieutenant and Ms. 45, for example) have benefited more from Ferrara’s ability to capture the oppressive and disturbing feeling of New York City’s seedy underbelly than strong scripts with logical plot motivations. Sure, a film like either of the aforementioned movies features a story that’s at least engaging on some level, but Ferrara tends to eschew many of the elements that critics look for in good films—character development and motivation, a logical plot progression to a previously established story goal, etc. The fact that Ferrara so willingly ignores these things that studio heads and film critics find so integral to movie structure hints at just how good a filmmaker Ferrara is…if a lesser director tried to make an Abel Ferrara style of movie, he’d find himself on the unemployment line. And yet, Ferrara’s not only still working, but he’s also become something of an auteur in the process—and his 1990 urban gangster epic King of New York is one of the best examples of why Ferrara’s style-heavy approach works so well.

Frank White (Christopher Walken: The Dead Zone, Pulp Fiction) is the ‘king of New York’—a druglord who’s spent much of his life in prison, yet rules the streets with an iron fist. As the film opens, we watch as Frank is released from the joint and placed back on the street. Meanwhile, an unidentified man of Spanish descent leaves a brothel, and then uses a payphone outside. While on the phone, a gang of black men materialize out of the darkness, trap the man in the phone booth, and begin blasting him with shotguns and pistols. As the man lay dying, the assassins stick a newspaper in his face—with a headline announcing that Frank White has been released from prison.

White’s eager to get back into the drug trade-but not solely for his own gain. It seems that his time in prison has turned him into a modern-day Robin Hood, a philanthropist who wants to procure $15 million dollars in order to keep a hospital for low-income children open. Unfortunately, his fellow drug lords don’t share this same aspiration—which ultimately causes Frank to kill them. Still, his noble goal aside, he’s a drug lord—a fact that doesn’t sit well with the cops (David Caruso, Wesley Snipes, and Victor Argo) who want nothing more than to put him away for life—even if Snipes and Caruso have to break the law to achieve their goal. Inevitably, this leads to a bloody showdown, and a surprisingly restrained ending that doesn’t make complete sense, but does work on at least some levels.

Ferrara’s visual style is in full flourish here. The NYC in this film is the similar to the NYC that countless cop shows, gangster films, etc. have shown us time and again. It’s a dark, dank, claustrophobic place where various predators lurk in the shadows waiting to strike out at the innocent. Yet, even though we’ve seen it before, Ferrara gives the film his own unique visual stamp. This New York is a dark and dirty place, sure—but, it’s also populated almost entirely by criminals. Unlike the standard NYC depiction, there are no innocents in this particular hell, which seems to indicate that perhaps Ferrara feels that anyone who’s honest and good can actually escape a place like this. Even when Frank shows up at a fancy restaurant, we get the impression that the well-to-do patrons are just as corrupt (and maybe even moreso) than he is.

Also worth noting are the action sequences. Ferrara seems to have been inspired by Hong Kong action filmmaker John Woo—filming his action scenes with a frenetic sense of pacing, an almost ballet-like choreography, and a two-pistol toting killer named Jump (Laurence Fishburne: The Matrix and the underrated Deep Cover). The violence, like just about everything else in this film, is highly stylized, at least until one poignant shootout near the climax which has more a ‘high noon at the OK Corral’ feel to it. In a way, the film plays out like opera—a blasted urban tragedy with the shootouts themselves providing the arias.

However, style or no, this film would have been forever consigned to the B movie section of your video store if not for the magnificent performances. Walken is brilliant as Frank, demonstrating why he’s one of our best American actors as well as how sad it is that he’s been so badly typecast as a man who can only play weird, brooding characters. Walken sucks us in here—even though he’s a man who will murder other men at a moment’s notice, he reassures us that ‘he never killed a man who didn’t deserve it’—and judging from his actions in the film, we start to believe him. White’s demeanor is that of an animal—not in the savage sense, but in that he seems to rely on his senses more than any kind of rational thinking. He exudes a calm and cool confidence in every scene, particularly one where he and his lawyer girlfriend are accosted in an empty subway car. Frank shows the men he has a gun, then tosses them a wad of cash—telling them that he can use them if they’re looking for work. Even when it appears that he’s not in control, Frank White is always in control—which is something that Walken’s performance helps drive home. With a lesser actor in the lead, King of New York would play out as yet another tired Scarface imitator.

But, the good acting doesn’t end with Walken. Ferrara’s assembled an impressive supporting cast to go along with his lead—and if there’s any flaw in this category, it’s that there are so many good supporting actors that many of them get relatively no screen time. Giancarlo Esposito, Steve Buscemi, and Teresa Randle are all part of Frank’s cartel, and while good in the few scenes they get, you can’t help but wish they’d gotten more screentime.

However, the best supporting performance in the film is provided by Fishburne as Jump. Jump’s quite possibly a psycho, but he’s got a good sense of humor and a devotion to Frank that makes you like him anyway. Fishburne is totally over the top here (sort of reminding me of Clarence Williams III, who he later worked with in Deep Cover), cackling laughter even after he’s been hit with numerous bullets.

On the downside, Ferrara lets a lot of interesting angles pass with no comment or development. For instance, the scene on the subway begs for a follow-up wherein the young thugs come to the hotel and meet their new boss…but we never get it. Also, there’s an interesting dynamic at work in the film in regards to race—Frank’s as white as they come and his crew’s all black (as is one of his girlfriends)—some sort of commentary on that situation would have been nice as well.

Old school hip-hop veteran Schoolly D provides several tracks to the soundtrack, and his funky brand of pre-gangsta hip hop is a nice addition to the film, adding to both the mood and the atmosphere of the scenes it’s used in.


All in all, King of New York is both a solid entry into the popular early 90’s ‘drug dealer’ action film subgenre and a very good addition to Abel Ferrara’s overall body of work. Walken and the cast, coupled with Ferrara’s exuberant style, combine to make this film much better than it had any right to be—going as far as bordering on classic. Unfortunately, the fact that the script misses several opportunities to give us some background/character development, and the fact that the philanthropic hospital angle is dropped almost completely late in the second act keep this film in the 4 star range and not 5. If you’re a fan of Christopher Walken, Laurence Fishburne, Abel Ferrara, or New Jack City-style gangster films, then King of New York is well worth a look.


7/10 Stars