31 Days Of Horror continues in Last Movie Outpost as we count down to Halloween. Today an Outposter goes into action. This contribution comes from Bourgeoisie Scum while addressing The New York Ripper. This is not for the faint of heart!

The New York Ripper

Lucio Fulci is not exactly a director known for his subtlety. In fact, you could say that in a sea of ​​’70s Italian street vendors, Fulci’s special brand of determination, sex, and explicit gore made him the most mischievous of all. You can’t find a better example of this mix of squalor, Euro-trash art, and goofy history than his 1982 slasher entry: The New York Ripper.

The New York Ripper It begins in typical Fulci style. An old man taking his dog for a walk is surprised to see his dog return from a game of fetch, not with a stick but with a rotten human hand! A gaunt, world-weary detective soon takes on the case (played by Jack Hedley) and, after interviewing the dead woman’s neighbors, discovers that she had arranged an interview with a duck-voiced man.


Yes, the killer speaks in a duck voice. Like your Uncle Terry doing a Donald Duck impression after too much Jack Daniels. That kind of duck voice. This could be scary or funny. Interestingly, it ends up being a bit of both.

This is followed by several other graphic murders that push the police captain, played by Fulci himself, to announce that there is no serial killer, do not talk to the press, I am too old for this shit, etc., etc.

They then introduce us to a horror staple, a sordid perverted sex lady who probably has a name, but isn’t important. She goes to the red light district, records some groans and groans from the artists, and then deletes one while watching porn movies.


Nearby, a rough man, missing the last two fingers of his right hand, watches her. The nature of the injury is quite harsh and serious. Even though it has been healed for a long time, it adds a bit of color to this character.

Soon one of the artists dies and our detective, while visiting his local prostitute, receives a phone call from a man with a duck voice.

There is a young couple who are traumatized when the girl is nearly killed by what she calls an eight-fingered man. Our perverted lady returns with more information, fingers point, and finally there is a twist and the mystery is solved.

None of this makes any sense or is important!

What The New York Ripper is really about is sleaze. Pure and unadulterated squalor. What sleaze, you ask? How bad can it be, you ask?

The following scenes are actually in the movie.

The perverted lady is in a billiard room and is approached by a couple of clichéd New York City guido dudes using cheesy phrases, whom she quickly allows to get kicked under the table.

One of the first victims dies in his car aboard a ferry. We got creepy shots to the crotch followed by insanely long cuts to his torso.

A lady receives a broken bottle stuck in her special lady place, over and over again.

There is scalp, eyeball cut, all Fulci trademarks are here. But there is something in this movie. Something under the surface that is just grimy. I’ve seen some real pieces of shit in my time, but this one takes the cake. Somehow manages to overcome Maniac, For the love of God!

It’s not really “good” or “entertaining” by definition, but it’s creepy, atmospheric, crazy, and very, very Italian. I think any true horror fan must dive into Italian squalor at some point or another. The New York Ripper it’s a great place to start … and then probably stop.


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