It dawned on me while assembling this year’s marathon that for the day when I grew one year older, I had nearly run out of film choices to watch from 1985. I’ve covered nearly all the heavy hitters (most of which I adore). Hell, I could have just cheated and listed off my favorite “Treehouse of Horror” episodes instead, but that would require more time than I expected. So, I decided to go back to the well of a country whose contributions to scary cinema rarely disappoint me: Italy! Specifically, I wanted to watch something that had been in my queue for several years and that would make me squirm a bit. Thankfully Lucio Fulci’s 1982 cult favorite giallo The New York Ripper (originally titled Lo squartatore di New York) was there to welcome me with bloody arms.
The plot is your basic “detective looking for a serial killer” trope, but what helps separate this one from the pack is just the all-around weirdness, ugliness, and brutality of it all. When your movie opens with a man playing fetch with his golden retriever, only for his dog to ignorantly bring back a decomposing, severed hand, you know that this isn’t going to be a simple procedural or anything you’d see on CBS evenings. For starters, this movie is super sleazy and grimy. Admittedly, I haven’t been to New York City in more than twenty years, but this movie dives into the darker and more “sensuous” side of the big apple that I’m sure some people reading this may not want to admit exists. There ain’t no Broadway Musical highlighting, but apparently in the world of The New York Ripper, you can attend live sex shows. So, there’s that! The violence is also unrepentantly BRUTAL (as is usually the case with Fulci), with our titular killer brandishing only a switchblade and straight-razors. If you know anything about Lucio Fulci (whose other works include bangers such as The Beyond, Zombie, and City of the Living Dead just to name a few), then you know there is also bound to be some eyeball violence thrown into the mix too, so brace yourself for that. There's also a memorable sequence involving a broken bottle that can be best described as "something you don't see every day."
But while the slayings seen on screen will certainly stick in your mind for a very long time, it’s the very odd (if not slightly jarring) decision to have our titular slasher constantly quacking at their victims while harassing and ultimately eviscerating them. I couldn’t fully tell if that was meant to be genuinely intimidating or if it was meant to be a parody, but I suppose that if you put yourself in the shoes of the people being stalked, it can be a bit disorienting? Even after laying out my rough draft for this, I can’t fully tell whether to put this into my list of “positives” or “negatives,” because it is just so peculiar. One genuine complaint I DO have though is that while the film does manage to do a surprisingly good job at keeping you guessing as to who the killer is (even after a moment that makes it seem SUPER obvious), there is a twist in its final act that comes in from out of NOWHERE that had me audibly asking why that needed to be there. It just kind of blindsides you with unnecessary exposition.
Lucio Fulci is an “acquired” taste, and The New York
Ripper isn’t really an exception to that. It’s gratuitous, mean, and
unsavory. I also think you could make an argument that it’s slightly misogynistic
too unfortunately (his other contemporaries like Dario Argento tended to write
stronger female characters). Still, flaws and all, I really had a ball with
this one. If you have the stomach for it and want a nice heap of some blood-soaked
cheese, throw this into your queue. As of the time of this review, it’s currently
available to stream on Shudder and Tubi!
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