What happens when you combine the toil of four individuals who almost single-handedly made the whole of Britain shirk in fear due to the audacity of their résumés? A film which was deported even before it was made. What else would one expect from Italian gore maestro Lucio Fulci?
Lieutenant Fred Williams (Jack Headly) is a New York City detective assigned to the mysterious case of a serial killer whose m.o. greatly resembles that of the Zodiac Killer yet, instead of postal communication, the murderer taunts police via telephone. His distinctive trademark is his Donald Duck voice. To aide in the investigation, Williams enlists the help of psychologist Paul Davis (Paolo Malco), a scholar of the serial killing mind.
Fulci supplemented the absence of frequent collaborators actress Katherine McColl, cinematographer Sergio Salvati, and composer Fabio Frizzi with a trio of screenwriters who have a proclivity to offend: Gianfranco Clerici, the pen behind such works as the director’s own Don’t Torture a Duckling and Ruggero Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust; Vincenzo Mannino, the writer of such notorious cinematic outings as Alberto De Martino’s The Antichrist and Ruggero Deodato’s The House on the Edge of the Park; and the individual behind most every notable Fulci horror flick, Dardano Sacchetti. Thus, it should come as no surprise that The New York Ripper, once the production was refused a ratings certificate, was deported from Britain by order of James Ferman. It seems that the feature was almost destined to be forbidden on English ground, even before it was green lit, given the fact that the Head Censor of the British Board of Film Classification would go on to ban the use of nunchucks in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle features.
Yet Ferman is not the only one to take issue with the film. Many cite the feature as misogynistic notwithstanding countless other productions, many of which are applauded by feminists, which also house a killer whose potential m.o. legitimizes said target demographic, i.e. the murderer is speculated to be suffering from an inferiority complex and, therefore, is violently reacting to females intimidating/threatening him. Still, the double-edged sword is nevertheless present for The New York Ripper posits Halloween-esque Puritanical mores as every liberated woman–be it prostitutes, swingers, experimenters, or the like–die by the killer’s blade as the Final Female inevitably plays by the conservative rules of morality. As such, yes, there are gripes to be had but, no, not on explicit grounds of gender, rather secondary bias by way of yawn-inducing unoriginality, which goads narrow-minded notions relating to the female in society. In this respect, The New York Ripper is guilty of sexism by association.
Granted, the feature does not achieve its agenda nearly as well as some of the filmmaker’s previous efforts. As Fulci attempts to merge his trademark giallo with his signature name brand gore, he realizes too late that he cannot convey both equally well given a standard running time. As a consequence, the requisite tension needed to present a thriller eschewed for visceral blood and guts in lieu of the director’s itinerary being to incriminate most every character who steps into frame by the feature’s climax. However, unlike the exquisitely clever manner in which Fulci accomplishes such in Don’t Torture a Duckling, other facets of a rewarding mystery are also bypassed in the fray. Despite the fact that the killer’s absurd voice lends an ominous unease to the proceedings, and one sequence in particular wherein the police trace a call only to be met with a walkie-talkie in a telephone booth, we spend too little time with the victims or the assassin as our police procedural is severed by long moments of excessively gratuitous soft porn. Whereas the director implemented such in previous affairs in order to display a character’s vulnerability, in The New York Ripper such becomes moot given the murderer’s reputation and proven ability to evade detection.
In short, The New York Ripper signals the end of Lucio Fulci’s prowess. In a canon which dependably provokes a response in its viewer, be it for good or ill, the Italian director nonetheless involves his audience one last time but with only a handful of trademark moments of suspense and unnerving efficacy. Unfortunately, his foray into a gore/giallo hybrid culminates into a mixed outing. Yet, one thing can irrefutably be said of the work, no one will ever mistake The New York Ripper of being anything other than a Fulci picture.
-Egregious Gurnow
- Interview with J.R. Bookwalter - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Andrew J. Rausch - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Rick Popko and Dan West - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Director Stevan Mena (Malevolence) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Screenwriter Jeffery Reddick (Day of the Dead 2007) - January 22, 2015
- Teleconference interview with Mick Garris (Masters of Horror) - January 22, 2015
- A Day at the Morgue with Corri English (Unrest) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Writer/Director Nacho Cerda (The Abandoned, Aftermath) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actress Thora Birch (Dark Corners, The Hole, American Beauty) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actor Jason Behr, Plus Skinwalkers Press Coverage - January 22, 2015
