In a stylized, nocturnal New York City ruled by street gangs, the charismatic gang leader Cyrus (Roger Hill) gathers delegates from across the city for a massive truce meeting in Van Cortlandt Park. His vision is simple: unite the gangs into a single, powerful force capable of controlling the city. During his speech, Cyrus is assassinated by Luther (David Patrick Kelly), the leader of the Rogues, who immediately blames the Warriors based in Coney Island.
With the truce shattered and chaos erupting, the Warriors are forced to flee into the night. Their leader, Cleon (Dorsey Wright), is beaten and presumed killed, leaving Swan (Michael Beck) to guide the remaining members home. The gang must cross hostile territory in the Bronx and Manhattan while being hunted by rival gangs and pursued by police. Each encounter becomes a test of survival, identity, and loyalty as they navigate encounters with groups like the Baseball Furies, the Lizzies, and the Punks.
After a long, dangerous journey, the Warriors finally reach Coney Island at dawn. There, the truth about Cyrus’s murder is revealed, and the Gramercy Riffs—having discovered the real killer—intervene to punish Luther and the Rogues, allowing the Warriors to walk away vindicated.
WARRIORS COME OUT TO PLAY
Luther (David Patrick Kelly): The Warriors
The Lizzies are unmistakably coded as lesbians. The film never uses the word, but the cues are so overt that the intention is impossible to miss. They’re framed as dangerous, deceptive, predatory, and aligned with violence.
So why do I still admire The Warriors? Why don’t I file it alongside the reactionary exploitation films of its era?
Probably because I read the Lizzies less as predatory lesbians and more as queer icons—or perhaps as a volatile mix of both – their power comes from their queerness. Although they spring from a 1970s exploitation trope, the Lizzies, like every gang the Warriors encounter on their journey from the Bronx to Coney Island—the Turnbull ACs, the Orphans, the Baseball Furies, the Punks, the Rogues—are granted their own iconography, their own aesthetic world, and, crucially, their own respect.
With Deborah Van Valkenburgh as the movie’s only heterosexual presence.
Screenplay by David Schaber and Walter Hill based on the novel of the same name by Sol Yurick, which, in turn, was based on Anabasis – the journey of the Ten Thousand from Greece to Persia in 401BCE – by the Greek soldier Xenophon.
With Lynne Thigpen (those lips – wow!) as the DJ.
Directed, with great style, by Walter Hill.
Cinematography by Andrew Laszlo.
75 Queer Films of the New Hollywood (1968-1980)
https://thebrownees.net/75-queer-films-under-the-hays-code-1934-1967/
https://thebrownees.net/about-thebrownees/
NOW STREAMING ON AMAZON PRIME VIDEO, APPLE TV+ AND YOUTUBE
