The Warriors may be a camp conceptual ballet choreographer's vision of street life, but it still rocks the bells. The names, the music, the design, the simple story (and don't forget those jackets) are flick knife sharp. Why don't gangs this uber kuhl exist anymore? Because they never did, or can't you remember that, old maaaan?
On the train journey home, contrast the affluent optimism of the young couples, laughing with flowers after the big show, with the filthy, bedraggled and hopeless ghetto pride of Swan and his desperate squeeze. Only one side of the carriage looks embarrassed, and it ain't the Warriors, baby.
Makes me wanna rumble in slo-mo on roller skates.
On the train journey home, contrast the affluent optimism of the young couples, laughing with flowers after the big show, with the filthy, bedraggled and hopeless ghetto pride of Swan and his desperate squeeze. Only one side of the carriage looks embarrassed, and it ain't the Warriors, baby.
Makes me wanna rumble in slo-mo on roller skates.