Plot Details: This opinion reveals minor details about the movie's plot.

It is very late. Three maybe four on Boxing Day morning. This room carries a foetid stench of stale sweat, smoke and alcohol. The revelers are all gone. Disconsolate, I ruminate upon the decadence of the modern age, on how the true meaning of these seasonal festivities has all but totally vanished. Replaced by greed, excess and rampant commercialism. I don't feel too good and foolishly -not to mention in a spirit of quite some nihilism- assuming I could not possibly feel any worse, I decide to brave out the latest acquisition to my growing collection of dark horror videos.

There are times in one's life one wishes to forget, but for whatever reason one is unable to. For me one of these times was when I first saw Lucio Fulci's New York Ripper. If you will forgive my indulgence in setting this scene then note the context in which I first came to revile, like so many before me, what I then considered to be an utterly loathsome and worthless movie. Not only bereft of any kind of noble or artistic intention but also as a work that I found to be appallingly misogynist in tone.

The release of the movie that I had happened onto ran before the main feature, three trailers which did little in the way of assuaging my fragile, troubled mind. A potted selection of high/(low?)lights from such disturbing fare as Cannibal Holocaust, Cannibal Ferox and New York Ripper itself set my mind reeling. As the various possibilities of what may have awaited me unspooled, I began experiencing some not inconsiderable anxiety.

Further exacerbating the problem was the fact that due to the late hour, I was forced to crane my ear to the TV speaker as it whispered the the various screams and shrieks of the eponymous ripper’s victims and the cheesy disco funk of the soundtrack. For the most part the film was totally inaudible and whenever I dared risk the wrath of my slumbering family members or of ostracization by my neighbors by increasing sound volume, all I was able to discern was an insane quacking noise, -presumably in imitation of a certain cartoon duck. This was certainly not what I was expecting.

Despite this I thought I might try to tough it out, to see it through, if for nothing else then for the notorious special make-up effects with which this film is synonymous. Alas Fulci, wisely reluctant to play his trump card prematurely, leaves the best for last in this feature. Thus I was to attempt to endure a sub par plot, without the benefit of dialog or sound and imagery which seemed to consist primarily of; sweaty Hispanics, senseless and motiveless attacks and some of the sleaziest locales to be found in Manhattan. Most unimpressed, my tolerance waned and I tried to put the entire sorry enterprise out of my mind.

It should go without saying that these were far from ideal circumstances under which to try and watch a film. As for making any kind of critical conclusions and thus come to an overall judgment on the piece... well forget it. Therefore it is with some regret that in retrospect, I admit, this is exactly what I did. The index to this case is in my last epinion, an entry into matt_harney’s The Underappreciated Films Write-Off. I had initially thought of reviewing New York Ripper, but opted instead for Peeping Tom, finding in it as a more interesting film, a greater potential for analysis.

In contributing to the write-off I found myself thinking: perhaps I should review New York Ripper anyway and in doing so provide a study of my own prejudices and also of the virtues of temperance. For I had also been guilty of the kind of ignorance, myopia and reactionary scare-mongering which is the bane of challenging film makers the world over. In my defense New York Ripper could not by any means be considered high art, it is not a ‘great’ film, not even is it a particularly good film, -per se. However it does have it’s merits and it did not deserve the single-minded and admittedly injudicious condemnation I was wont to heap upon it.

For over a year I used New York Ripper and what I perceived to be it’s reprehensibly misogynist content as an easy target for my growing hatred of Lucio Fulci’s film making. The situation came to a head one day whilst in full swing, berating what I considered to be the many vile qualities it embodied, both aesthetic and thematic, to a proponent of Fulci’s oeuvre. I stopped dead in my tracks, reflected and thus wondered; exactly what kind of hypocrisy was I entertaining here... I knew practically nothing about the film and yet I was as eager and vociferous to damn it as the self aggrandizing, puritanical critics I had always loathed as ignorant, censorious fools.

Judge not lest ye be judged Alex. And thus I came to reappraise New York Ripper and discovered to my surprise and delight a taught, pacy and involving giallo whose convoluted narrative enthralls and horrifies in roughly equal measure.

Essentially the film is a classic murder mystery-cum-slasher-cum-detective story set in and around the fleshpots, peep-shows, subways and seedy apartments of a contemporary New York City. A crazed lunatic is out on the prowl, singling out pretty young women, savagely murdering them and mutilating their bodies with knives, broken bottles and razor blades. Lieutenant Williams, the detective assigned to the case is seemingly utterly inept. A flawed protagonist not only by his bewildered approach to police work but too in his illicit affair with an independent -yet, portrayed as argumentative and egotistcal- prostitute -a woman he treats in an atrociously derogatory manner. He draws blanks left, right and center and is mercilessly taunted by the killer who telephones and goads him in that quacking imitation of the one and only D. Duck Esq.

It’s skillfully crafted narrative features some neat twists, which I have no intention of spoiling here. It keeps the audience guessing and successfully leads us down several blind alleys before coming to it’s unexpected resolution. Fulci’s aesthetic sense seems more acutely honed than that evinced in his previous effort, Zombie. Dramatic use of close-up is exploited to great effect, there are some cleverly chosen set-ups and the editing is snappier by far. Thus the film is far easier to become engrossed in and remains a more involving work.

Where the film sickens however is not so much, -as one might reasonably expect- in the jaw-dropping gore sequences but rather in it’s overall air of unrepentant misogyny. New York Ripper’s treatment of women is most regrettable. They are varyingly portrayed as meddlesome, sluttish, brusque and callous. Fulci seems to be attempting to justify the many sensationalist depictions of their gruesome ends, -depictions which include the use of color filters, jaunty angles, extreme close-up and choppy editing- by inferring, -as it indeed it does in it’s portrayal of almost all females as troublemakers, prostitutes or promiscuous harlots- that they are ‘asking for it’. Such an argument is highly dangerous, irresponsible and something that I could never effectively act as an apologist for without entirely compromising my own standpoint.

What was maybe the most problematic scene for me was one in which the wife of an academic psychologist drafted in to help on the case is held captive by two greaser types , Morales and Chico, in a back street bar. Morales and his “silver toes” masturbate the woman under a table, despite repeatedly protesting she is forced to endure the humiliation of being brought to orgasm, forced to admit she had liked it and then exposed at her most vulnerable to the raucous jeers and laughter of her aggressors. This scene is so sleazy, gratuitous and of such objectionable intent it beggars belief.

That is if you wish to analyze the politics of the movie as an artistic medium. Such an analysis is perhaps inappropriate when ascribed to a film like New York Ripper. For even the most avid exponents of Fulci’s work in general and this piece in particular would surely acknowledge it as a prime example of unique trash. Trashy movies are not necessarily such a bad thing and in the case of this work can represent a guilty pleasure. That such a piece can emote this much is indeed a testament to, if nothing else, the power of it's film making.

As the finest of the films of Lucio Fulci that I have as yet seen, New York Ripper is still pretty dubious. It comes across, more often than not, as a grime-caked, sleaze-infested, shot on video, TV movie. Cheap, nasty and salacious. However, the exemplary special make up effects are eye-watering to this very day and comprise essential viewing for those of us with an interest in the more gruesome and explicit variations of the horror genre.

I find it difficult though, to force this much misogyny down my throat at one sitting and wonder; have there ever been any slasher films which deploy misandry -meaning the loathing of men- as brutally as New York Ripper objectifies and denigrates it’s females?

A Nightmare On Elm Street's antagonist exemplifies the worst aspects of the abuse of male power and is rightly undone by a resourceful female, perhaps noteworthy too is the excessive feminism offered in Ms.45 and I Spit On Your Grave, in fact lone female survivors are prevalent throughout modern film history, in such works as Alien, Aliens, Cannibal Ferox and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, yet I struggle to remember a film so outrightly offensive and relentlessly brutal to men as this piece is to women.

A steel -and preferably empty- stomach is required. Now buckle up and enjoy the ride because New York Ripper in it’s lurid fusion of sweaty, quasi-pornographic eroticism, heart stopping suspense and gore-drenched sexual violence, defines the term 'thriller'.



Recommended: No

Viewing Format: VHS
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age