Close-Ups is a series of pocket guides to the world of film from Little White Lies and William Collins. In the title you are holding, our hope is that you find a fresh, personal exploration of a particular director, actor, movement or genre. We hope that you will join our authors in their efforts to look at movies through a new lens.
David Jenkins
Editor
Little White Lies Magazine
William Collins
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This eBook first published in Great Britain by William Collins in 2018
Copyright © Mark Asch and Little White Lies 2018
Mark Asch asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
Series editors: David Jenkins, Tom Killingbeck, Clive Wilson
Cover illustration by Christopher DeLorenzo
Interior illustrations by Laurène Boglio
Design and layout: Oliver Stafford, Laurène Boglio, Sophie Mo
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Extract from ‘Greenwich Village’ taken from Oh, Lady!! Lady! (1917), lyrics by P.G. Wodehouse.
Extract from ‘South Bronx New York Subway Rap’ by Grandmaster Caz, from Wild Style (Animal Records, 1983)
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Source ISBN: 9780008256647
Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008256654
Version: 2018-10-01
Thrive, cities—bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers,
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual,
Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.
- Walt Whitman,
“Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”
In The Warriors, a teenage gang fight their way from one end of the subway to the other. They return to their home turf of Coney Island after an all-night odyssey shot in Riverside Park and Evergreen Cemetery, on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen and Long Island City, the elevated tracks in Borough Park and Cypress Hills and the underground stations at Hoyt-Schermerhorn and Union Square, and in innumerable gray subway cars covered in scrabbled Sharpie graffiti tags. Each gang has their own tribal uniform: the Baseball Furies in their fright makeup and bats; the Punks in their rollerskates and overalls; the Gramercy Riffs in their orange martial arts robes.
The Warriors is accurate in its broad contours about the necessity of improvised itineraries when dealing with New York’s late-night train service, as well as in its depiction of a city that can feel intimidatingly territorial. Each gang is its own subculture, with its own aesthetic, hierarchy and history, and woe betide anyone who disrespects their priority. It’s their home—you’re just visiting.
The city, E. B. White wrote, “carries on its lapel the unexpungeable odor of the long past, so that no matter where you sit in New York you feel the vibrations of great times and tall deeds, of queer people and events and undertakings.” So too with the city’s cinema. When the Warriors finally make it back to Stillwell Avenue, they walk under overcast off-season skies past shuttered amusements and stilled rides, including the same Cyclone roller coaster where Diana Ross’s Dorothy had found her Tin Man in The Wiz the year before.
In this book, I follow the New York street grid (though without the leatherette Warriors vest). It’s a guidebook, mapping out the scenes, communities, artists and powers-that-be that have staked their claim to this block or that neighborhood, in this moment in time or that one. Chapters are organized chronologically, though some double-feature pairings that communicate from different eras. I’ve restricted my selections here to films shot significantly on location (with the caveat that “significant” is a flexible word), and to one film per director, in a nevertheless failed attempt to cast a net as wide as the city. I’ve stuck to fiction features, rather than compete with the direct views of documentaries.
I’m indebted in the writing of this book to my editor, David Jenkins; to the Hekemian family for a place to write and my parents for the lifelong conviction that I had something to say; and to all the past and present citizens of my New York, the film critics, programmers and cinephiles whose advocacy and insight has enriched me as an editor, reader and audience member. My life in New York, at the movies, as a writer, and in so many other ways, would be unimaginable to me without Larissa Kyzer, to whom this book is dedicated.