On Saturday, June 10, 2023, thanks to the American Cinematheque, I had the chance to watch King of New York on 35mm at their Los Feliz Theatre–part of the Seven Nights with Abel Ferrara: An 18-Film Retrospective With Live Scores. For me, it was nothing short of a dream come true. Seeing this gritty, operatic crime film projected from a 35mm print (courtesy of Park Circus U.K.) was the kind of raw, cinematic experience that sticks with you long after the lights come up.

My interest in the film came after listening to Quentin Tarantino discuss it on the 100th episode of The Rewatchables Podcast. Hearing him break down its intensity and importance made me wanting to see it right away. Thankfully the retrospective by the American Cinematheque gave the chance to not only see it on the big screen–but in glorious 35mm. Watching King of New York this way felt like stepping into the city Ferrara conjures: dangerous, unscripted and alive.

The night held an extra surprise–Laurence Fishburne made an unannounced appearance. His energy was magnetic, and his reflections on the role of Jimmy Jump added another layer to the experience. He spoke about how the character was originally written for a white actor and how significant it was, back in 1990, to see a Black actor take on a role with such presence and complexity. He talked about that moment as a turning point–not just in his career, but in how Black characters were represented in cinema. Hearing it directly from him drove home how powerful and political casting can be.

During the Q&A, I had the chance to ask Ferrara a question from the audience. I asked about some of the guys in the film–whether they were actors or, well, the “real deal.” Ferrara just smiled and said, “Yeah, some of those guys were the real thing… they were around, and they were available for a scene or two.” That kind of raw, on-the-ground casting speaks to the film’s energy. According to Ferrara, the shoot was loose, wild, free from studio interference. “We did what we wanted,” he said. “Every card had to get played that night.”

There’s a particular feel to many ’90s films–especially the ones made outside the system. They were often messy, bold, and driven by vision at all costs. King of New York is one of those films. It might look, at first glance, like a stylish crime thriller, but there’s something much deeper going on beneath the surface. It’s not just about drugs and violence–it’s about power, and who gets to hold it. It’s about systems that are corrupt from the top down, and about characters who are more complex than their criminal titles or labels suggest.

This isn’t a film where you can easily point to heroes or villains. Ferrara isn’t interested in clear lines. He gives us characters who are violent, morally ambiguous, sometimes terrifying–but also strangely sympathetic. You find yourself rooting for people you probably shouldn’t, and questioning why. That’s part of what gives the film its lasting power. It’s not just a product of its time–it’s a mirror held up to systems that still feel relevant today.

Without spoiling anything, the nitty-gritty drama of King of New York comes down to a central question: Can you have it all–power, respect, a sense of justice? Or does something always have to give? Ferrara doesn’t offer an easy answer. But the film makes you sit with the question.

Seeing a rare 35mm film print of King of New York in a theater, surrounded by fellow film lovers, was more than just a screening–it was a reminder of what cinema can be when it isn’t trying to please everyone. When it takes risks. When it’s made by people who don’t ask for permission. And even now, decades later, Ferrara still has that edge. Still wild, still free.