Happy Goat Horror

Alright, buckle up, because New York Ripper (1982) is a nasty ride through the darkest corners of New York City—and I do mean nasty. Directed by the one and only Lucio Fulci, this is not for the faint of heart, and if you’re in the mood for something that revels in its depravity, well, have I got a film for you. The title alone tells you everything you need to know: this is a film about a vicious serial killer who loves slicing up women with a razor-sharp edge—oh, and he just so happens to be quacking like a duck while he does it. Yes, you read that right. Quacking. More on that in a bit.

Let’s start with the sleaze factor, because, folks, New York Ripper is full of it. We’re talking gratuitous nudity, savage murders, and a perverse, almost voyeuristic pleasure in every frame. The killer targets women, slashing them to bits in graphic detail, and Fulci—being Fulci—does not hold back. The violence is in-your-face, brutal, and shockingly explicit. You’ll cringe, you’ll look away, but you’ll also be kind of transfixed by how twisted and unapologetically grim this movie is. The blood flows like a river, and the camera doesn’t shy away from every gory, grotesque detail. It’s giallo, but dialed up to 11.

The plot itself? Not exactly a masterpiece of sophistication, but that’s not the point here. A detective (played by the gruff Jack Hedley) is on the trail of a killer who’s got a thing for slicing up his victims and taunting the police with cryptic phone calls—seriously, these calls are like something straight out of a nightmare. The killer’s quacking like a duck on the phone, sending shivers down your spine, and all while his blood-soaked rampage continues. Is it a deranged psycho with a fetish, or is there something deeper at play? Honestly, it doesn’t matter. New York Ripper is more about atmosphere and atmosphere is what it’s got in spades. It’s grimy, it’s gritty, it’s everything that makes grindhouse films so deliciously decadent.

The setting of New York City is crucial here. The Big Apple is portrayed as a sleazy, crime-ridden hellhole, and it’s almost like the city itself is another character in this blood-soaked nightmare. You get the sense that the streets are crawling with depravity, and every alleyway might hide another gruesome murder. Fulci really leans into the urban decay and sleaze, making sure every shot feels dirty, like you’re lurking in the shadowy depths of the city’s most unsavory corners. The streets are filled with weirdos, perverts, and hustlers—and the killer fits right in.

But let’s talk about the killer for a second because he’s one of the most delightfully twisted figures in giallo cinema. He’s a sick puppy with a very strange quirk—every time he talks on the phone, he quacks. Yep, quacks like a damn duck. It’s utterly bizarre and completely unnerving, like a weird bit of psychological torture for both the victims and the audience. You’re not sure whether to laugh, cringe, or just stare at the screen in disbelief. But it works. It’s one of those things that’s so strange, so out of place, that it becomes terrifying in its own right. Seriously, there’s nothing more chilling than a voice on the other end of the line crooning out those duck-like sounds just before the blade comes down.

The performances? Honestly, they’re just a vehicle for the chaos and carnage, but that’s all you need. Hedley plays the detective in his usual no-nonsense fashion, but the real fun is in the minor characters who seem like they’re straight out of a sleazy crime drama—everyone’s a little bit shady, a little bit broken, and you never know who’s going to get it next.

But let’s be clear here: New York Ripper is not a film you watch for subtlety or deep character exploration. No, you watch it for the grindhouse aesthetic, the blood-splattered kills, and the unrelenting sleaze that keeps piling on with every passing minute. It’s trashy, it’s exploitative, and it’s a film that wears its depravity like a badge of honor. There’s a certain unholy charm to it, and if you’re a fan of horror in its most unfiltered form, New York Ripper delivers exactly what you’re looking for.

The Verdict: 4/5. It’s brutal, it’s bizarre, and it’s not for everyone—but if you love your giallo sleazy, bloody, and twisted, then this is a must-see. Fulci at his most unrestrained, and I mean that in the best possible way. Grab some popcorn (or maybe a barf bag, depending on your tolerance for gore) and let New York Ripper take you on a ride you won’t soon forget.