Classic Movie Review: King of New York (1990)

King of New York (1990) 
Directed by: Abel Ferrara.
Written by: Nicholas St. John.
Starring: Christopher Walken (Frank White), David Caruso (Dennis Gilley), Laurence Fishburne (Jimmy Jump), Victor Argo (Roy Bishop), Wesley Snipes (Thomas Flanigan), Janet Julian (Jennifer), Joey Chin (Larry Wong), Giancarlo Esposito (Lance), Paul Calderon (Joey Dalesio), Steve Buscemi (Test Tube), Theresa Randle (Raye), Leonard L. Thomas (Blood), Roger Guenveur Smith (Tanner), Carrie Nygren (Melanie), Ernest Abuba (King Tito), Frank Adonis (Paul Calgari).

 

There was always something different about an Abel Ferrara movie – even back in his period working with screenwriter Nicholas St. John, where the pair apparently had a vision of marrying exploitation with something approaching art. Some will call that pretension – and to be clear, that is what it was at times. And yet, at their best, Ferrara and St. John really did come up with some strange visions of violent characters, living outside the law, and yet sticking to some sort of moral code. There is a twisted version of Catholicism running through these films, and there is a tension between all the sin, and the moral viewpoint, however twisted, of their central characters. Where the pair fell out, St. John stopped working – and Ferrara’s career became even more tumultuous than it had been before –with some high points, and some dismal lows, as Ferrara abandoned any hope of anything approaching mainstream success. But many of those films the pair made remain fascinating and one of a kind.

King of New York (1990) is one of those films. It stars Christopher Walken as Frank White, a drug kingpin recently released from prison who sets out to become, well, the King of New York. You can see echoes of The Godfather or Scarface in the film, but it’s also very much its own twisted view of crime. It doesn’t take Frank long to start his plan in motion – he acts as if he is going to make peace with the other gangs, but soon alongside his psychotic right hand man Jimmy (Laurence Fishburne) – he is simply mowing them down, and forcing them out. The body count mounts in increasing ways.

Walken is one of the most fascinating of actors. His weirdness can slip into self-parody too easily – and that is basically all he’s been asked to do for years now, so easy to forget how good he can be in the right role, or how he got that reputation in the first place. His Frank White is one of his most fascinating characters – a drug kingpin with a lust for power, who has all the trappings of decadence, but doesn’t seem to enjoy any of it (Jimmy, on the other hands, enjoys it all too much). Frank isn’t above walking around with an almost nude model on each arm, or driving around in his limo surveilling his kingdom. He already has more than enough, and a keen sense of his own mortality – being in prison has convinced him he never wants to go back to that, so he’s going to embrace whatever time he has left. Yet, he almost feels like an alien – watching humanity with a detached, analytical eye for their weaknesses. In another way, he’s simply a capitalist – he knows that people will never stop doing drugs, hiring prostitutes, etc. so it’s pointless to try and stop them. With him, at least, he plans on giving back to the community – building hospitals, etc. In his mind, that makes him moral – or at least more moral than the other options.

The film could have just wallowed with Frank and Jimmy in their excess – but it does something interesting with the police as well. Bishop (Victor Argo), an older cop who is trying to patiently build a case against Jimmy, but his younger, underlings don’t have the patience. As the bodies pile up, these younger cops (led by David Caruso, reminding you he actually could act at one point, and including Wesley Snipes) – decide to take matters into their own hands. They have more in common with Frank than they’d like to think – as they are going outside of regular morality for what they assume are moral purposes. Bishop is the only one who keeps his hands clean – and yet the film acknowledges that by doing so, he isn’t going to get anywhere. He’s the only one playing by the old set of rules everyone else has discarded.

As with all Ferrara films, there is plenty of excess here – lots of violence, perhaps a little less sex than is typical for Ferrara (but a hell of a lot more than what we see in films today). With some of Ferrara’s films, all that excess can overwhelm whatever is being said. Here, they coexist – you need that excess to see Frank for who he is. He isn’t Jimmy for example – his goals are different. But perhaps that just makes him worse.