Fear City is directed by Abel Ferrara and written by Nicholas St. John. It stars Tom Berenger, Billy Dee Williams, Jack Scalia, Melanie Griffith, Rossano Brazzi, Rae Dawn Chong and Maria Conchita. Music is by Dick Halligan and cinematography by James Lemmo.
A serial killer with martial arts skills is targeting exotic dancers in the Manhattan district of New York. An angry cop and an ex-boxer with a vested interest in the girls' welfare vie for the scalp of the killer.
The visual backdrop of a neon lighted Manhattan adorned with sex and violence, a sort of urban nightmare, should have been the starting point for some Abel Ferrara class. Unfortunately what transpires is a derivative film of unimaginative dialogue, a weakly constructed plot and a sense that it's really a skin flick for young teenage boys learning about what makes them tingle.
The visual experience is rather ace, definitely, with Ferrara painting it as a neon drenched city of blood, sweat and tears, while the score thrums away like an 80s grim reaper determined to keep the story in the realm of darkly classic film noir. Hell! Even the flashback structure used for Berenger's troubled pugilist has a nice noirish kink to it, but everything else is a mess.
The narrative includes such unsubtle plot devices as bisexuality, drug abuse, guilt and even "reverse racism", but do any of these add up to anything approaching cinematic oomph? Hell no! And this is even before we get to the killer, who we see from the off but that's all we know about him. I mean he has a book called "Fear City" and he likes to do his martial arts in the nude, and he likes to cause considerable pain to his victims, but why? Could he just be some guy prancing about in readiness for a day of reckoning with Berenger's buffed up demon exorciser?
By the time Billy Dee Williams realises he is saddled with a script that just wants him to be politically incorrect instead of being a policeman of substance, the film has lost all sense of purpose or basic thriller means. We then cut to a twin training montage of Berenger and Naked Fear City Guy that just looks like a cheap knock-off from the Rocky Balboa franchise. Enter the big fight finale, where the brawn and pugilist guile of one man meets the oriental dexterity of another, which in principal should be exhilarating. Sadly the choreography, and direction, for Berenger's character during this denouement is very poor and firmly sounds the death knell on what is a huge disappointment of a movie.
The girls look great, Griffith especially, and Bereneger also is in fabulous shape. While the visual canvas is just about enough to entice the neo-noir faithful into taking a look, but really it's hard to believe this is from the same director of Ms. 45, King of New York and Bad Lieutenant, because yes! It is that poor and you would be far better served seeking out other 80s thrillers instead. As for Lando Calrissian? He is left wondering about life in a galaxy far far away...where for sure he at least was somebody. 4/10
A serial killer with martial arts skills is targeting exotic dancers in the Manhattan district of New York. An angry cop and an ex-boxer with a vested interest in the girls' welfare vie for the scalp of the killer.
The visual backdrop of a neon lighted Manhattan adorned with sex and violence, a sort of urban nightmare, should have been the starting point for some Abel Ferrara class. Unfortunately what transpires is a derivative film of unimaginative dialogue, a weakly constructed plot and a sense that it's really a skin flick for young teenage boys learning about what makes them tingle.
The visual experience is rather ace, definitely, with Ferrara painting it as a neon drenched city of blood, sweat and tears, while the score thrums away like an 80s grim reaper determined to keep the story in the realm of darkly classic film noir. Hell! Even the flashback structure used for Berenger's troubled pugilist has a nice noirish kink to it, but everything else is a mess.
The narrative includes such unsubtle plot devices as bisexuality, drug abuse, guilt and even "reverse racism", but do any of these add up to anything approaching cinematic oomph? Hell no! And this is even before we get to the killer, who we see from the off but that's all we know about him. I mean he has a book called "Fear City" and he likes to do his martial arts in the nude, and he likes to cause considerable pain to his victims, but why? Could he just be some guy prancing about in readiness for a day of reckoning with Berenger's buffed up demon exorciser?
By the time Billy Dee Williams realises he is saddled with a script that just wants him to be politically incorrect instead of being a policeman of substance, the film has lost all sense of purpose or basic thriller means. We then cut to a twin training montage of Berenger and Naked Fear City Guy that just looks like a cheap knock-off from the Rocky Balboa franchise. Enter the big fight finale, where the brawn and pugilist guile of one man meets the oriental dexterity of another, which in principal should be exhilarating. Sadly the choreography, and direction, for Berenger's character during this denouement is very poor and firmly sounds the death knell on what is a huge disappointment of a movie.
The girls look great, Griffith especially, and Bereneger also is in fabulous shape. While the visual canvas is just about enough to entice the neo-noir faithful into taking a look, but really it's hard to believe this is from the same director of Ms. 45, King of New York and Bad Lieutenant, because yes! It is that poor and you would be far better served seeking out other 80s thrillers instead. As for Lando Calrissian? He is left wondering about life in a galaxy far far away...where for sure he at least was somebody. 4/10