The first time I heard the name Frank White was listening to The Notorious B.I.G. Christopher Wallace vocally gave himself the moniker on many of his tracks. The name was taken from the fictional character portrayed by Christopher Walken in Abel Ferrara's kinetic crime drama The King of New York. To see rappers label themselves with the violent crime characters of the movies is no big shock, especially in the 90s. The earlier albums of Jay-Z were filled with skits which lifted movie dialogue from Carlitos Way (1993). The 1983 version of Scarface influenced the lyrics of several rap artists, while southern rapper Scarface made it his stage name. However, I always found Wallace using the Frank White nickname to be an amusing one. By extension, giving himself the name, the artist was labelling himself King of New York emcees. His reputation grew after his fatal shooting ended his far too short career. But the self-proclaimed nickname feels like such a wry and knowing aspect of mythmaking before the bleak tragedy of his passing.
The King of New York is equally as dark. Ferrara’s film
feels just as doomed as B.I.G’s seminal hip-hop debut ‘Ready to Die’. Their
main characters deal with death, drugs, and money in equal parts. All with the
lingering knowledge that their ideals are in no way sustainable. Frank White is
released from prison with the intent to go straight. He wants to be mayor of
New York City. Taking a leaf out of Micheal Corleone’s book, he’s decided to
decimate the criminal underworld and consolidate his drug empire while looking
to frame himself as legitimate. New York’s narcotics squad quickly catch wind
of White’s activities. Leading the case are three dogged yet weary detectives.
However, with no tangible evidence against the kingpin, their efforts look in
vain. However, if you’ve heard Biggie’s ‘Suicidal Thoughts’ you just know that
tragic consequences loom around the corner.
It's crazy realising that The King of New York stuts its
stuff in the same year that Goodfellas (1990) and The Godfather: Part 3 (1990) flexed
their Mafioso muscles. While the two crime films of Coppola and Scorsese waltz
around with an air of prestige about themselves. The King of New York is as down
and dirty as they come. Eschewing the romanticism of the larger studio pictures
and becoming its own Shakespearean tragedy set within the Big Apple. Frank White
holds similar, lofty aspirations to that of Micheal Corleone. To run in the
halls of government, even if it means getting there by nefarious means. But no Machiavellian
scheme exists here. Both Coppola and Scorsese love to manoeuvre around the
hierarchy of their gangsters with an element of pomp. Ferrara is less
interested in pageantry. The King of New York, like many of Ferrara’s other
films, is a lean beast. Like White, there’s no time to play around.
Frank White:” I’ve lost a lot of time. It's gone. From here
on, I can't waste any. If I can have a year or two, I'll make somethin' good.
I'll do somethin'...
[Chuckles] ... somethin' good. Just one year, that's all.”
In a 2012 interview on the Arrow region B Blu Ray of the
film, a candid Abel Ferrara remarks that the film is how a volume of prosperity
gained from a newly established nouveau riche (the drug dealers) was briefly
viewed from the eyes of blue-collared joes, the cops trying to take White down.
Amusingly, in the same interview, Ferrara considers White as a “dreamer”. A man
full of contradictions with little time on this earth. The slenderness of The
King of New York as a movie eerily in parallel with the rap star who made the
film’s lead character his namesake a few years later. But the plight of Frank
White and the metaphors viewed by his creator are also fascinating. A focus on
the conflicting idealism that often occurs in similar gangster movies. They only
need to be in “the life” for a little longer. The ill-gotten fruits of their
violent crimes can then be obtained without consequence. White forgets that he
lives in what Ferrara deems a "life of survival". Unfortunately, none
of us get out here alive. In the case of Frank White, life is more likely to be
a good time than a long one. With that one good year starts to look mighty
precious. But as Frank notes in the film's latter end: he doesn’t need forever.
When director Quentin Tarantino first started following the
work of Abel Ferrara, he felt that the Bronx native would become the next
Martin Scorsese. An understandable notion from an aesthetic point of view. The
King of New York has a few visual instances that suggest that earlier
Scorsese vibe. The opening scenes of Frank White surveying New York in a
stretch Limo after his release feel strangely reminiscent of Travis Bickle
roaming the streets in Taxi Driver. The short, sharp, bloody first shootout
resembles Scoresese's earlier works. A drug deal filled with tension
explodes. Bodies are strewn across the floor in a matter of a few squib-filled
seconds. But the two paths diverge from each other soon after.
One difference is Ferrara embracing the melting pot of New
York. Despite the cynicism within The King of New York, Ferrara appears
fascinated with dynamics not so keenly approached by his peers.
In his review of The King of New York, Roger Ebert constantly looks
for a logic that Ferrara cares little about. Frank White is a
Caucasian criminal with an army of loyal black men under his wing.
Ebert spends time wondering why. Wanting the script to tell us more.
Yet we are left with an ambiguous commentary on race relations. Handled
with a contradictory earnestness and community not found in earlier Scorsese
features. White’s relationship with black street criminals is frowned
upon in the film and questioned in film reviews. However, the mixed racial
groupings of both cops and criminals hold a dramatic contrast to
the more dismissive or aggressive relationships found in the likes of
Goodfellas and Taxi Driver. Granted those films are not about racial harmony.
Nor is The King of New York. However, the dynamic found in Ferrara's film gives
a fresh sense of precedence. Reflecting the audiences who would connect
with the film. Despite a tepid box office performance, The King of New York did
very well with black audiences. Suddenly The King of New York had me
thinking of films such as Kanas City (1996), One False Move (1992)
and, of course, the boom period of hood movies that
graced the 1990s. The addition of music from Schooly D, one of the
originators of Gangster Rap, not only cemented a sense of immediacy but also
strengthened the ties to inner-city black America. A far cry from the
misty-eyed, segregated period pieces of the same year. The idea of The
King of New York being a racial trendsetter might be reaching for some.
However, Ferrara’s desire to let such provocation linger for a viewer
does make King of New York even more compelling. Bringing forth the
overriding statement that the only colour that matters is green.
For all this talk about racial commentary, The King of New York is also a formidable exercise in style and mood. So much of the charisma of Frank White is compiled in how Abel Ferrara, Christopher Walken, and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli construct the world. From the first moments of White swaggering out of prison to the cold, pensive close-ups of him as he is driven through the underbelly of his desired kingdom. Is Frank White cavalier on his idea to be New York’s Robin Hood? Of course, the imagery of Walken dancing with his stoned mistresses, bathed in golden diffused light, or gazing out at the New York skyline is seductive enough to gloss over the practicalities. It delivers the conviction. Bazelli’s work is of standout here. Capturing faces in mesmerising close-ups. The sense of power felt watching Walken in those early moments is palpable. In addition to this, Bazelli indulges scenes by bathing them in bold primary colours. So much so that I was reminded of another film: Deep Cover (1992). Guess who the cinematographer was. A quick glance at Bazelli’s filmography also features his potent work in features like The Ring (2002) and A Cure for Wellness (2016). Although one wonders how the cinematographer feels about revisiting Boxing Helena (1993).
But for all the style, it's astounding that The
King of New York maintains an air of B-movie grit about itself. Ferrara
combines lean, kinetic energy with the extravagant criminal indulgence found
within sensationalistic second features and Blaxploitation fare. The King
of New York never shies away from its thorny racial comradery nor its brazen
sexuality and over-the-top violence. And it's all the better for it.
Where else can you see such a scummy Laurance Fishburne performance? The type
of off-the-chain display that could only exist in a film with one foot still in
the exploitation world. How can a man with such calm, commanding roles like
Furious Styles and Morpheus have a performance like this in his locker? Will
mainstream cinema ever have such a charismatic anti-hero display his lustful
desire with such wanton abandon on a subway train? Possibly not. But we should
be lucky The King of New York exists as a jolt of lightning in a bottle, almost
forgotten in a year where two of the New Hollywood champs came out with some
big swings. Goodfellas became ranked as one of America’s best crime
films. The Godfather: Part 3 became the uneven brother to its muscular
siblings. The King of New York stumbled out of the blocks but became the
cult cousin that rewards viewers willing to give a little time to films that
lay off the beaten track. When Biggie Smalls crowned himself as New
York royalty, he saw the swagger and energy of Frank White that he wanted to replicate within his music. Both Frank Whites were here to excite, and each did so with aplomb.
The King of New York can be found on Amazon Prime. However, I recommend picking up the great Arrow 2 Disc Blu-ray if possible.
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