Escape From New York (1981 film) = Finished

I'm sorry I didn't see this sooner.

Not in the sense that I'm apologizing to you. More that it has been added to a pile of regrets that only continues to grow with the arbitrary number associated with the length of my existence on this Earth.

LET'S TALK ABOUT A MOVIE

Escape From New York is a strange, strange movie to watch after decades of being twisted, subverted, or straight-up copied in almost every medium imaginable.
The vast majority of these copies fail, because they don't see the value in what is perhaps its most critical element:

A dedication to simply depicting a reality.

We see our protagonist once in the first 15-20 minutes. An ordinary prisoner with an unusual eyepatch being processed, before Escape From New York moves on, continuing to show us the intentionally-created hellscape that is now New York. It's a strangely quiet movie for what has become a cult action icon, but that's intentional. We're observers, following Snake and the small procession of other people involved in this unexpectedly small drama. One that treats a tip-toed investigation through pitiful squalor and an absurd nighttime cab ride with the same amount of gravity.

Stuff just happens inside the world. Desperate stuff. Weird stuff. Funny stuff. Sad stuff. You name it. Our world itself is just a bunch of stuff at the end of the day, Escape From New York seems to say, and Snake is just another man making his way through it. There isn't really a point where this perspective shifts from observation into instigation, as the hero takes control. If anything, Plissken loses agency throughout the film, from the moment he gets injected with a virus to the point where he takes an arrow in the leg that leaves him limping all the way into the credits. And here we are, the audience, simply witnesses to what would happen whether we were viewing it or not. The approach is almost documentary-esque. The technique, not so much like a staged play, as window gazing. We're just peeping toms, getting this temporary glimpse into a far wider, stranger, real world over one crazy night.

This is the grounding that makes Escape From New York whole, and leaves so many imitators created since feeling soulless.  

They've lost connection to the truth that makes arbitrary action feel real. Even inevitable.

You know, I can see the bones of a much more expensive, action-packed thrill ride of a movie here. One with constant tension, banter, and a hail of postapocalyptic gunfire. One where the introduction isn't bleak, or potentially boring.

God, it would suck.