text/electronic knight
Among many American directors, even among independent film directors, Abel Ferrara is rarely mentioned: Jim Jamush, Gas Van Sant , Wes Anderson, Richard Linklater, Paul Thomas Anderson or Todd Hines are much more famous than him. Maybe it's because he doesn't have the "cultural" flavor of Jia Muxu and others, and he is not as sharp as a guy like Quentin. I've seen several of his movies in a vague way, but "Bad Lieutenant" impressed me the most: Ferrara's black is so natural, so not heavy, and sometimes I feel that Scorsese's movies are in contrast to Scorsese's movies. They are all a little too contemplative and persistent—for example, Ferrara’s "The King of New York". At first glance, it’s easy to think of Scorsese’s "Good Guy", and there are film critics in the West. Call it "Quentin's "Ring Room" plus Martin Scorsese's "Good Guy"", it is certainly not as good as "Good Guy", so neat and beautiful, but it looks more individual. To me, Ferrara’s style, especially the film "The King of New York," is more like John Carpenter meeting Martin Scorsese.
Most of Ferrara's films do not emphasize shots or narratives like ordinary independent films, in other words, they are not very fond of form and depth. "King of New York" is basically the way of a commercial film, nothing more than the gang boss coming back out of the arena, and after a bloody storm, he was finally chased by the police and utterly destroyed. But audiences who like noir and independent films can smell their unique taste from the very beginning: the opening scene of the film is the scene of the underworld boss Frank White coming out of prison. The scene is calm and simple, following Frank all the way out of prison and on the car, without any in between. dialogue. Then, it was a scene in which his subordinates killed Colombian drug dealers swiftly and swiftly, during which bullets and blood splattered, showing signs of black style. Then, Frank and his old black brothers met, Ferrara arranged a strange sense of tension here: a few black buddies and Frank exchanged greetings that seemed affectionate, and Frank suddenly said: "I'm in jail. It’s been so long, why don’t you see me?" The temperature in the room dropped to zero, and the buddies were all anxious. The headed Jimmy finally said: "Who wants to see you in a cage?" So both parties Laughing, Frank began to twist and dance.
The whole film is shrouded in Ferrara’s bizarre black style. Compared with that, Ridley Scott’s work of the same type "American Gangster" is simply a lively march-it was his back then. "Blade Runner" is somewhat similar to this. The night of New York in "The King of New York" is blurred and chaotic, and the streets are like battlefields. Even the police are full of violent and gloomy atmosphere: At a policeman’s wedding, someone embraced the bride and kissed her on the neck; in order to deal with Frank, several policemen Actually pretending to be a triad, rushing into its lair with a mask, and killing... Instead, Frank, played by Christopher Volken, is always smiling: sneer, smile, like a poet, melancholic, butcher, and paranoid The hybrid, walking in the muddy world, trafficking in drugs, killing people, while working hard for the community hospital, even donating tens of millions of net worth. In "The King of New York", there seems to be no white, only black, cyan, and gray. The motivations of the characters' behavior have become vague and indistinguishable. Frank is almost portrayed as a contemporary Robin Hood who robs the rich and helps the poor. It is better to say that the pleasure of pursuing revenge and punishment is more appropriate for a sense of justice. The ambiguity of the theme and the ambiguity of Frank's character is probably the problem of the film's failure to become a classic masterpiece like "The Good Guy".
In terms of style alone, "King of New York" is absolutely fascinating. The atmosphere it creates is immersive: Lawrence Fisherborn’s Jimmy fought with the police in heavy rain and night and was shot down. The ground behind twisted frantically, screamed and laughed, like a short-circuited mechanical doll; Frank confronted the old policeman in the subway, and shot the old police decisively (after Ferrara’s film did not come to those old policemen) Routine), he slowly walked out of the subway station and caught a taxi. There were neon signs outside, and cars and people crowded together, unable to move forward. Frank put down his gun, his abdomen was full of blood. The taxi driver hurriedly jumped out of the car and fled. The police outside dodged and slowly approached, and no one dared to come up. The camera was pulled up, and the crowd of vehicles looked like ants squirming. It was bustling outside, and the car was quiet. Frank, the king of New York, seemed impatient to wait, tilted his head and died.
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