I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a somewhat peculiar movie. The bursts of violence are horrific, and the picture maintains an emphatically gritty tone, yet scenes spotlighting the killer feel a tad contrived. There's several noteworthy names and faces appearing here, and the roles they are given to fill have complicated histories and backgrounds that could be teased out to even more splendid, visceral or emotional ends. Yet most of the figures quietly come and go in the narrative, and the one centered as the protagonist - Matt Rossi, portrayed by Tom Berenger - feels more like a man caught in a whirlwind than an active force driving the story. For all the characters and threads of plot herein, the development of that plot comes across less as a line moving forward, and more as a grim malaise of wretchedness slowly spreading outward in all directions. As such, each subsequent concrete story beat that propels the runtime almost feels out of place. 'Fear City' is solidly enjoyable, but it's a bit of an oddity, and I can't begrudge anyone who holds it in lower esteem.
The vibe is definitely one of neo-noir - seedy characters all around, dubious dealings, bad business, and circumstances that progressively spin out of control. Within that vague context, there's a lot to love about Nicholas St. John's screenplay: the very human characters; the dialogue oozing fear, exhaustion, and broad spite; the scene writing that over the course of the length adopts an evermore dire air of immediacy. And I do quite like the overall narrative, for while it feels a trifle unorthodox, and perhaps unsteady on its feet, the curiousness of the approach here is by no means an inherent mark against it. In fact, by keeping the storytelling relatively nebulous and fuzzy, one can infer a measure of universality - this could be anywhere, at any time, and the themes and characters could apply elsewhere and otherwise - in contrast to the specificity that a more streamlined, distinct narrative would impose. Similarly, even as the killer is shown to have a couple qualities that set him apart from any average John Doe, the movie declines to impart a precise motive or reasoning, lending credence to the notion that this unnamed attacker who voices such strident misogyny is a stand-in for every person who by any account exhibits the same senseless hatred of women. And, if one reads such harsh connotations into the amorphous, open slant of the writing, 'Fear City' becomes even more bleak - and for that, even more engrossing.
Combine all this with the tremendous film-making skills of Abel Ferrara, who makes all the grime of New York feel extra real and personal, and it's hard not to become invested in the movie even though something feels persistently, indescribably "off." I won't say that this is a "fun" viewing experience, but at length it's a strongly engaging one. The hair and makeup work, costume design, and broad production design are swell, and the cinematography is excellent. The sequencing partly suffers from and feeds into the same muddied haze that clouds the writing, but the film editing at large is executed well. And yet for all the fine contributions that characterize 'Fear City,' and for as enjoyable as the picture is overall, the aspect of its craft to stand out the most isn't what you'd think. "New York doll," a song performed by David Johansen that opens the film and closes the end credits, is marvelous. It quickly sets a dark tone for this 80s picture, and exemplifies a brilliant, invigorating score and soundtrack that may be the single best part of the feature.
It's not without its flaws. At the same time that the approach to storytelling opens different possibilities, the strangely noncommittal writing of characters and narrative development is a little off-putting. It's a fine, quixotic balance the feature tries to strike, and the results are mixed. All this is kind of beside the point, though: one can dissect the minutiae of the title from top to bottom, but at the end of the day, it's dark, it's violent, and it keeps us watching. Warts and all, 'Fear City' is better than not, and its imperfections kind of add to its appeal. Content warnings should be noted for substantial nudity, and violence against women, and even putting these aside Ferrara's style won't meet the personal preferences of all viewers. Still, if you have the chance to watch it, there's a lot to like about 'Fear City,' and I think it's worth checking out.
The vibe is definitely one of neo-noir - seedy characters all around, dubious dealings, bad business, and circumstances that progressively spin out of control. Within that vague context, there's a lot to love about Nicholas St. John's screenplay: the very human characters; the dialogue oozing fear, exhaustion, and broad spite; the scene writing that over the course of the length adopts an evermore dire air of immediacy. And I do quite like the overall narrative, for while it feels a trifle unorthodox, and perhaps unsteady on its feet, the curiousness of the approach here is by no means an inherent mark against it. In fact, by keeping the storytelling relatively nebulous and fuzzy, one can infer a measure of universality - this could be anywhere, at any time, and the themes and characters could apply elsewhere and otherwise - in contrast to the specificity that a more streamlined, distinct narrative would impose. Similarly, even as the killer is shown to have a couple qualities that set him apart from any average John Doe, the movie declines to impart a precise motive or reasoning, lending credence to the notion that this unnamed attacker who voices such strident misogyny is a stand-in for every person who by any account exhibits the same senseless hatred of women. And, if one reads such harsh connotations into the amorphous, open slant of the writing, 'Fear City' becomes even more bleak - and for that, even more engrossing.
Combine all this with the tremendous film-making skills of Abel Ferrara, who makes all the grime of New York feel extra real and personal, and it's hard not to become invested in the movie even though something feels persistently, indescribably "off." I won't say that this is a "fun" viewing experience, but at length it's a strongly engaging one. The hair and makeup work, costume design, and broad production design are swell, and the cinematography is excellent. The sequencing partly suffers from and feeds into the same muddied haze that clouds the writing, but the film editing at large is executed well. And yet for all the fine contributions that characterize 'Fear City,' and for as enjoyable as the picture is overall, the aspect of its craft to stand out the most isn't what you'd think. "New York doll," a song performed by David Johansen that opens the film and closes the end credits, is marvelous. It quickly sets a dark tone for this 80s picture, and exemplifies a brilliant, invigorating score and soundtrack that may be the single best part of the feature.
It's not without its flaws. At the same time that the approach to storytelling opens different possibilities, the strangely noncommittal writing of characters and narrative development is a little off-putting. It's a fine, quixotic balance the feature tries to strike, and the results are mixed. All this is kind of beside the point, though: one can dissect the minutiae of the title from top to bottom, but at the end of the day, it's dark, it's violent, and it keeps us watching. Warts and all, 'Fear City' is better than not, and its imperfections kind of add to its appeal. Content warnings should be noted for substantial nudity, and violence against women, and even putting these aside Ferrara's style won't meet the personal preferences of all viewers. Still, if you have the chance to watch it, there's a lot to like about 'Fear City,' and I think it's worth checking out.