FROM THE DRILLER KILLER TO ‘KING OF NEW YORK’: ABEL FERRARA’S 1990 DREAMLIKE NEO-NOIR CRIME OPUS

Christopher Walken as Frank White in King of New York. Credit: New Line Cinema

I discovered Abel Ferrara’s King of New York when I saw the advertisement for its release in the United Kingdom on 21st June 1991, in the British tabloid newspaper, The Sun. I was fascinated by the artwork used from the theatrical poster that depicts a large stylised central image of its star, Christopher Walken. He is wearing a suit, his arms are crossed, he is weirdly holding a handgun by its trigger with his left forefinger as the gun’s barrel faces down, and he is standing against the backdrop of the New York City skyline at night. The classic and minimalist aesthetic presents this neo-noir crime joint’s genre and its dark and gritty tone. The feature itself is also a mood piece with a dreamlike quality.

There was no buzz about King of New York, as film critics dismissed it as style over substance, and it came and went in the cinemas. I can remember seeing the TV spot, and I used to repeatedly watch the trailer on the videotapes that I rented from my local Blockbuster Video. I was transfixed by its dark, moody and dangerous atmosphere, induced by its extraordinary visuals and its New York setting, and the clips of its Hong Kong-esque shoot-out set pieces.

The last moment of the trailer always grabbed me. In a close-up shot of Christopher Walken, he says part of a line taken from his great monologue in a pivotal scene in the film’s climax. His character, a drug lord named Frank White, confronts NYPD lieutenant, Roy Bishop (Victor Argo), who has been trying to take him down, one night in Bishop’s apartment. White explains his motivation for taking out his rivals in the criminal underworld, when he realizes that his dream of doing great things for the city and its people was just that: he was delusional. The iconic actor is chilling in his delivery as his character rationalizes his actions, “… I never killed anybody that… didn’t deserve it.”

At the time I discovered King of New York, I was not familiar with the work of Abel Ferrara, but I took note of his name as the director. As a budding young horror aficionado, I was aware of the controversial reputation of his ‘legit’ first directorial feature, The Driller Killer (1979), as a video nasty, although I did not know, it was his film. Ferrara is also the lead actor in it. It made it on the Director of Public Prosecutions’ (DPP) Final 39 list of prosecutable titles, and it was banned under the Obscene Publications Act 1984.

I had seen the infamous graphic image on the cover of Vipco’s VHS release, which is what got The Driller Killer in trouble, on TV news segments and documentaries about the video nasties scandal. It depicts a man being drilled through his forehead, which is taken from a scene in the film. By the time the ban was lifted in 1999, I knew Abel Ferrera was the director, and I had seen ten of his pictures, including King of New York. However, this was an edited version to remove the explicit violence. Due to being a big fan of the filmmaker’s work, and my strong aversion to the censorship of art, I did not want to see his vision compromised. I was finally able to watch The Driller Killer in its true uncut form, when it was approved by the BBFC and released on DVD in the UK in 2002.

Abel Ferrara made his directorial feature debut with the hardcore pornographic film, 9 Lives of a Wet Pussy (1976). This was under the pseudonym, Jimmy Boy L. It marked his first collaboration with screenwriter Nicholas St. John, under the pseudonym, Nicholas George. They met at high school and graduated from university at the same time. They would subsequently work together on The Driller Killer, and then on eight more projects, including King of New York. The last was The Funeral (1996), which also stars Christopher Walken. This signalled the end of an era in Ferrara’s career, as the rest of his work that followed is avant-garde with non-linear narratives, and is very niche.

"The classic and minimalist aesthetic presents this neo-noir crime joint’s genre and its dark and gritty tone." Credit: New Line Cinema

All of Abel Ferrara’s work has been personal since The Driller Killer. He only makes films that interest him about what surrounds him in his world as a New York-centric filmmaker. King of New York is the same. Both pieces are sociological reflections on different times in his life in two distinct periods of New York City, and are made in two distinctive filmmaking styles.

The aesthetic of the The Driller Killer is that of a raw docu-drama. Through improvisation, it captures the lifestyle of the director and his filmmaking crew, living from day to day on limited resources. It was shot in their neighbourhood in Union Square (including in their apartments) and at their local hangouts without permits between 1977 and 1978. This micro-budget guerrilla filmmaking is a byproduct of their financial reality. It is set around the culture of the punk rock scene, and we can feel its aggressive energy.

The Driller Killer is a character study about a financially strapped, stressed-out, and struggling young artist and his frustrations with society. Therefore, it is fitting that the independent filmmaker, Ferrara, played the role. His character suffers a mental decline, and violently murders the homeless with a power drill, due to his daddy issues, as his estranged father is a derelict, and he kills the people that he feels have wronged him.

Abel Ferrara makes us see the life of the grim, grimy and sleazy urban decay of the pre-sanitized New York, and makes us feel its grittily intense atmosphere. He always treats the city like a character itself, as if it is a living antagonist to his always-flawed protagonists, who strain under the immense pressure of its harsh and cruel surroundings, which have inflicted upon them their miserable existences. Ferrara thrives on chaos, as the self-destructive themes of his films reflected his own life at this time, as they are fuelled by his substance abuse and alcoholism.

Fasting forward just over a decade: Abel Ferrara has made a successful career directing low-budget exploitation pictures. The best of these are Ms. 45 (1981) and China Girl (1987). In King of New York, the 1980s are drawing to a close. The New York scene’s gangsters have become rich dealing crack cocaine just like Frank White. And Ferrara and his close filmmaking community were now living an exuberant lifestyle of drugs due to the director’s growing artistic success.

King of New York is closer to being a Hollywood production more than anything else that Abel Ferrara has created. He travels to the border of the mainstream, but this is where he stops. He dips his toes in these waters, almost as if he is daring himself to prove he can make a film that is more accessible for general audiences. While still shot entirely on location, the scenes are meticulously staged, and are beautifully lit, like a major studio production. Bojan Bazelli’s exquisite cinematography is a clear distinction of Frank White’s high living and vicious street dealings, with warm orange/cold blue lighting. This is a significant departure from Ferrara’s previous underground, free-form filmmaking, and he does it successfully, with a seemingly effortless alteration.

Ferrara does not forget his exploitation roots, however. It hits that sweet spot between exploitation and arthouse, in a transitional piece for its director: 

It plays out like a pulp crime novel with morally ambiguous characters and a sensationalized plot. And Abel Ferrara exploits the Hong Kong action cinema of the time, as it is chockfull of stylized shoot-outs and violence, including dual-wielding pistols (gun fu) inspired by the films of John Woo: A Better Tomorrow (1986), A Better Tomorrow II (1987), and The Killer (1989).

Ferrara dabbles in the arthouse with a strange dream-like experience. His next project after King of New York was the neo-noir crime character study, Bad Lieutenant (1992). He co-wrote it with Ms. 45 star, Zoë Tamerlis Lund (1962 - 1999). It lacks the entertainment factor of King of New York, with the filmmaker having fully made a transition from exploitation to arthouse.

Frank White takes out a rival. Credit: New Line Cinema

Frank White has just been released from a lengthy prison sentence in Sing Sing Penitentiary. He wastes no time in taking over the criminal underworld, as he has his crew murder his rival drug lords in brutal fashion, and personally takes out an Italian Mafia boss who disrespects him and refuses to cooperate. His actions catch the attention of Bishop’s narcotics squad.

If you have not seen King of New York, reading this brief synopsis, you may think the premise sounds uninspired, and you would be right, as it is no different to other cinematic gangster narratives we have seen. But it is what Nicholas St. John’s stylised writing does with it, and it is a large part of what makes the film highly memorable.

We see from the perspective of a dreamer his final days, when reality comes crashing down, and shatters his dreams in the form of society’s crooked law enforcement officers. Frank White has done hard time, has revaluated who he is, what he stands for, and knows he does not have much time left for redemption. But the negative effect of his long period of isolation is his break from reality. He lives in a detached world and watches life through a dreamlike lens, as if his world is like a movie, so his vision is tainted with a twisted sense of altruism. He wants to be the mayor of New York and do great things for its citizens, and wants to save a children’s hospital with his drug money. His drugs put people in hospital, and he is a stone-cold killer, so he is like an anti-hero version of Robin Hood. His plans are idealistic, but they are impractical, as he will pay the price for his misdeeds and living in a fantasy world. 

Frank White is a complicated character with a contradicting personality and conflicted goals. He is charismatic, smooth, and likeable, and if he were not, the film would not work. Frank’s charm distracts us from who he really is: a drug kingpin and a ruthless murderer. While we know that the cocaine he sells harms people, we do not see this on screen, and he is not a user. And he “… never killed anybody that… didn’t deserve it.” His reasoning for killing his rivals is because of their other criminal rackets: the exploitation of the vulnerable and poor, and child prostitution. These crimes disgust even White, and it is to get us on his side.

Frank White was inspired in part by real-life New York Italian-American mobster, “Crazy Joe” Gallo (1929 - 1972), as White’s crew are made up of African-Americans from poor backgrounds. His close friendship with his right-hand man, Jimmy Jump (Lawrence Fishburne), was influenced by Joe Gallo befriending African-American drug trafficker Leroy “Nicky” Barnes (1933 - 2012) in prison. Later, a black man would shoot a Mafioso rival of Gallo, who was suspected of hiring the shooter, but this was never proved.

Jimmy Jump shares some of Frank White’s characteristics, which is why they are such good friends. Jump is a killer for business purposes, but is sadistic, as he enjoys taking out his crew’s rivals. Yet, he shows kindness to the less fortunate innocents.

Lawrence Fishburne as Frank White's right-hand man Jimmy Jump goes gun fu. Credit: New Line Cinema

The way White takes out his rivals and rules the New York drug trade, just like that, is preposterous - there is no way this could happen in true-life organised crime. It is as if we are watching the wannabe gangster fantasy of a know-nothing teenager who has seen Scarface (1983) one too many times. It is as outlandish as any B-movie exploitation picture. Despite its dark and gritty tone, King of New York is not a film rooted in reality, just like its protagonist. It is deeply embedded in pop culture and cinema trends of the time: hip-hop, with gangster rap pioneer Schoolly D providing the exhilarating soundtrack; gun fu action; and the resurgence of the film noir genre as neo-noir, updated with modern sensibilities, and wrapped up with a pretty bow of dynamic visuals. It is made for pop culture geeks and film buffs.

King of New York was buoyed by the burgeoning gangsta rap sub-genre of the 1990s, due to the artists’ fascination with the film. This was most notably, the NYC-based, The Notorious B.I.G. a.k.a. Biggie Smalls (1972 - 1997). He sometimes used the monikers of “the black Frank White” and “The King of New York”. And he would reference the character in his lyrics: from Hypnotize, “Them n***as ride dicks, Frank White push the six.” From Runnin’ (Dying to Live), “The n***a Biggie Smalls tryin’ ta turn into the black Frank White.”

Lawrence Fishburne gives a remarkably intense performance as Jimmy Jump, the first on-screen hip-hop gangster. But the character was not written this way. Abel Ferrara had offered the role to Italian-German-American actor, James Russo, who Ferrara had previously collaborated with on China Girl, but Russo turned it down. Fishburne created the version of Jump seen in the finished film, as the African-American actor put a unique hip-hop style spin on him. As King of New York was filmed in 1989, his attire is decidedly old-school. This includes the iconic look of wearing a heavy, bold, chunky, and oversized gold rope chain, which symbolizes his wealth, social status, and achievement of escaping poverty. This was popularized by the artists Run-DMC, LL Cool J, Big Daddy Kane, and N.W.A.

King of New York features Wesley Snipes in a pre-fame supporting role as Detective Tommy Flanigan of Bishop’s narcotics squad. Crime actioner New Jack City (1991) was released just over five months after King of New York in the United States, in which Snipes plays its major antagonist, the drug baron, Nino Brown. The movie was an instant critical and commercial success, and turned the actor into a major Hollywood star. Due to the under the radar status of King of New York, and the mainstream awareness of New Jack City, many believe Nino Brown to be the first cinematic hip-hop gangster, when in fact, it is Jimmy Jump.

Flanigan’s partner and best friend is Detective Dennis Gilley (David Caruso). They are both memorable supporting characters who are obsessed with dismantling Frank White’s drug empire. But they are no better than he is, because they decide to go rogue and attempt to kill him, rather than allow White to use the corrupt members of law on his payroll to escape justice.

In a haunting scene depicting the final face-off between Jimmy Jump and Tommy Flanigan & Dennis Gilley, taking place in an underpass at night, against the backdrop of backlit rain, we hear the cries of agony from the dying in this cold atmosphere.

David Caruso and Victor Argo try to intimidate Christopher Walken. Credit: New Line Cinema

Christopher Walken - The King of Cool - gives one of the best performances of his career in King of New York. He switches from calm and collected, to fierce, and back, effortlessly. He will always be remembered for his early roles, like his Oscar-winning turn in The Deer Hunter (1978), and The Dead Zone (1983), but King of New York is Walken at his most Walken. Previously, his Walkenisms were restrained, but here he is let off the leash, and he turns it up to 11, where it has stayed since, as this film was a turning point in his career. He really plays up his unconventional halting cadence speaking style. He disrupts the expected pattern of speech with an irregular, disjointed and unpredictable rhythm, with short fragmented phrases, and unexpected long pauses and sudden stops. His voice fluctuates in pitch, as he highlights specific words. It grows deeper for sincerity and higher for emphasis: calm, then explosive, and then calm again. Christopher Walken’s disregard for traditional punctuation creates a sense of surprise and tension. In addition, as he is a former professional dancer, who still loves to dance, he makes sure to show us some moves.

1990 was a strong year for crime cinema, and it began a decade of great entries in the genre. King of New York became lost in the sea of Goodfellas, Miller’s Crossing, Internal Affairs, State of Grace, etc. But thankfully, it has gained the respect it deserves as one of the best of its kind, for its now considered fresh take on material that has covered much ground by this time, as it is being discovered by cult film enthusiasts. After gazillions of rentals, buys, and streams over the last 35 years, King of New York has become a cult classic. It is compelling from beginning to end as a dark and lurid character study of a twisted soul who is a dreamer looking for redemption. It is brought to us by a true artist, as Abel Ferrara is a filmmaker who makes films his own way with no compromise.

Note: The best ways to own King of New York physically are Arrow's 2020 4k Ultra HD and standard Blu-ray releases.

© 2026 Dave J. Wilson. All rights reserved.

Credit: New Line Cinema