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6 hours ago
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Walter Hill, director
I thought Sol Yurik’s 1965 novel, The Warriors, would work well as a film but I told Larry Gordon [the producer]: “Nobody will ever let us make it. We’d have to shoot at night in New York, and it doesn’t lend itself to star casting.” I turned it down and went to do a western but the finance fell apart. Larry came back and asked if I was still interested.
I didn’t get along with the people who ran Paramount and we got off to a poor start. They saw it as some kind of sequel to Saturday Night Fever. It’s pretty hard to imagine more disparate storylines. The Warriors operates in a dystopian, slightly futuristic, fantasy dream world. The studio never understood that but audiences got it instantly.
I wanted Orson Welles to narrate an introduction. His speech was going to last 30 seconds and set up what we were about to see. He agreed to do it – he was broke. However, the studio didn’t want him. They felt an artistic frame would hurt the film’s commercial potential. I thought the audience wouldn’t get the movie without some explanation, but I was completely wrong.
Originally, I proposed casting only racial minorities, like in the book, but the studio didn’t think that was a commercial idea. And, now, I think the fact that all of the gangs are interracial makes the movie more universal – it did well all over the world, much to everybody’s surprise.
We shot at night in New York areas where gangs ran things. They’d say: “You’re on our turf and your trucks are fucking up our streets – so pay us.” They were always bribeable. It was $200 a night.
The Baseball Furies were inspired by the Furies in Greek mythology. Bobbie [Mannix, costume designer] did some drawings and they were wearing the New York Yankees uniform. I thought it wasn’t quite enough. Somebody said, “Why don’t we paint their faces?” and I thought, “Now that’ll make it really different.”
We had a scene where a car was looking for the Warriors who were hiding under a boardwalk. Luther [David Patrick Kelly, playing a rival gang leader] knows this, but there wasn’t anything in the script for him to say. I said: “This is too dull. Do something!” He ran under the boardwalk and got some beer bottles. When we were ready to shoot, he clinked the bottles and said: “Warriors … come out to play.” I said: “Don’t change anything!” That and “You dig it?” are probably the two lines everybody remembers.
The film was attractive to gangs. They’d show up at the cinema, see a rival gang they had age-old animosity with and violence would ensue. There were several deaths and that’s always tragic, but it’s hard to blame the movie. We got a lot of criticism from political and religious leaders – almost none of them had seen it. I’m proud of the movie.
Deborah Van Valkenburgh, played Mercy
I read the script and the story jumped off the page, like an action-packed matinee movie that takes you on a rollercoaster ride from bright daylight into a neon cityscape at midnight. Mercy resonated with me and I wanted to play her with all my heart.
For my first audition, I remember wearing a pair of black, raw silk trousers and a pumpkin-coloured knit top that my Italian friend Pamela gave me. I thought wearing her garment would lend me some spice but I don’t think it particularly impressed Walter. Something I was doing did attract his attention though – he described me as the “unobvious choice”.
As a kid, my brother had taught me to cluck like a chicken so when I saw Mercy’s first line was a cluck, it felt like destiny. I liked her sense of independence and adventure with an undercurrent of discontent. Her world was seemingly limited and she was perhaps at a crossroads when the Warriors arrived in front of her stoop. She taunted and challenged the Orphans and the Warriors gangs. Her vibe got under my skin.
My connection to all the guys was pretty instantaneous and my fondness for everyone immediate. Michael [Beck, played Swan] and I already had a trusting connection before our characters hooked up and Walter assured us we had on-screen chemistry.
I fractured my wrist during the shoot on the subway platform. It was harrowing, and the schedule got turned upside down. The scene where I’m suddenly wearing a blue jacket was just to conceal my broken wrist. It gave me more moxie to get the job done, come hell or high water. But it was a tough shoot and physically there were challenges all along the way. We embraced our collective “warrior” in that regard.
When it opened, I recall being with Marcelino [Sánchez, who played Rembrandt] at someone’s apartment and hearing about queues wrapping around city blocks. It was so exciting. I took my friends to see it in Times Square and clucked for the theatre employees. Audiences would clack bottles together in time to Luther’s ominous call to “come out and play”.
Sadly, violence cut our momentum short. It was on its way to becoming a smash hit when gangs in various parts of the country clashed outside theatres and cinemas began pulling the film. We found ourselves defending it in interviews: these altercations weren’t perpetrated by the film but by the energy collecting outside in long lines – the film attracted volatile people. But thinking about the graphic violence in films today, The Warriors is a cinematic dance in comparison, epic and romantic.
Whenever I see The Warriors, it’s like watching a home movie. There are throngs of people who watch it routinely like The Wizard of Oz. I’m profoundly grateful.
