Making movies is a lot like life - a swirling chaotic clusterfuck.

So, if you're looking for a polished story that stays on track, clips along in perfect chronological order and rolls into the last station all tied up in a shiny pink bow, you caught the wrong train. 

“Did you ever take a new job and three days in you wonder – What the fuck have I done?”

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With these opening words, Rob Ryder grabs you by the scruff, jacks you into a subway car and starts spitting out Warriors stories, one after another, as that 6th Avenue Express hurtles into the night.

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It’s the summer of 1978, and Ryder’s been hired onto The Warriors as a P.A. then quickly bumped up to location scout. Six weeks later, a stuntman smashes up his leg and Ryder is suddenly a Baseball Fury. A weird turn of events – what with the purple make-up, black wig, and Yankees uniform…

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Purple Fury is fast, smart and funny.

Not some scholarly tome – but a cold

plunge into the hot mess of real-life

movie production.

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Director Walter Hill takes such delight in having Swan beat the shit out of Ryder he decides to next make him a Punk in the infamous subway bathroom brawl – where Cochise and Snow get in their shots before Swan once again finishes him off.

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Then all too soon, this train screeches to a halt – and you’re left feeling a lot like the Warriors did – battered, bruised, but still standing. And weirdly exhilarated.