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1990: Post-nuke New York City. A young beautiful girl named Ann is running away from her corrupt corporate arms dealer dad and leaves the safe-haven of a maximum-security island known as Manhattan. With a ruthless bounty hunter on her trail, she makes the deadly mistake of escaping to the fearsome forbidden zone of the Bronx, a no-man's wasteland of marauding warriors and cutthroat gangs. When Ann meets gang leader Trash, he decides to protect her and turn the tables on her corporate oppressors by waging an all-out guerilla war! (official distributor synopsis)

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English The post-apocalyptic B-movies that came right after Mad Max took great pride in style. It didn't matter where you lived or what you did for a living, the main thing was that you had the fanciest costume, makeup or hairstyle and the coolest ride. While The Bronx Warriors exceptionally doesn't copy Mad Max, but rather Hill's The Warriors and Carpenter's Escape from New York, it nevertheless makes a painstaking display of style, from the opening credits, which revel in the fetishistic details of leotards, leather gloves, studs and pads. The gangs that dominate the post-apocalyptic Bronx of 1990 (in the 1980s, it was all about the future) understandably differ from one another in their dress styles and specific means of transportation (from bikers dressed as Blue Oyster customers to skaters to cave mutants), as well as in the weapons they use and the ways they fight (the members of one gang tap dance during fights, for example). Bronx Warriors feels a bit like an eccentric musical without the singing, in which the characters are constantly grouped in front of the camera in mixed, pre-rehearsed formations and poses. Even the simple arrival at a meeting between two gangs has to be done in style. In one such wonderfully absurd scene, we watch several minutes of bikers lining up in a succession of W shapes (an obvious reference to Hill's Warriors). The camera meticulously captures the details of the faces, vests and bikes of even the least important extras (if you can recruit them from the ranks of the real Hells Angels, you have to sell them properly on screen). Adding to the drama is the drumming of a live band that happened to be on location and the director thought it was cool to include them in the plot. The gang members exchange long looks, the drumming builds to a dramatic climax, but the scene has virtually no climax. The bikers just exchange a few words and then calmly disperse again. And that's what the film is like. It's nothing, but it's got style! The plot is extremely stupid and nonsensical, but formally it's a fascinating spectacle in its own way. Castellari once again shows how well he can work with a wide-angle camera. And the real locations of the Bronx at the time look convincingly desolate (though not downright post-apocalyptic). It makes you shudder to think what it was like in the 80s. ()