I've finally completed my quest to revisit some of giallo's most sleazy films, and I've saved the best for last: Lucio Fulci's The New York Ripper. The Godfather of Gore delivers everything we've come to expect in this controversial outing: the fetishistic eye violence, the stomach-churning special effects, and a twisting mystery reminiscent of his earlier work in this subgenre (most notably, Don't Torture a Duckling). However, New York Ripper isn't your typical Fulci film -- it's one that divides even his most ardent supporters into two distinct camps: those who consider it one of his finest creations and another group who finds it to be pure, unadulterated trash. I happen to side with the former group, because despite the debatable arguments about the film's rampant misogyny and disturbing physical/sexual antics, it's still one of the director's most competently helmed -- and perhaps most personally revealing creations.
categories Features, Reviews, Horror