This is definitely New York before Giuliani-the Big Apple when the streets were a graffiti-emblazoned maze of mythologized mayhem. And mythic, too, is this neon-lit journey of a street gang stranded in hostile territory, hastening towards the safety of their own turf. An urban rendition of Xenophon's Anabasis, The Warriors begins with an assembly of gangs from throughout the boroughs. When the tribal gathering goes awry, The Warriors, wrongly accused of a murder, become the quarry of every punk affiliate in greater NYC. The Zulus, The Baseball Furies, The Lizzies, The Turnbull AC's, The Rogues: all have sworn to avenge the leader of their pack. From deep night until the deliverance of dawn, The Warriors, inadvertently led by doe-eyed Michael Beck, traverse New York, the darkness punctured only by garish Day-Glo colors and brutal ambushes handled as sharply as a stiletto. When this rockin' ramble through jungleland ends, you'll rejoice that the gang's all here.