John Carpenter has always been a product of his environment. He began his career during a time in Hollywood when the commercial nature of filmmaking was becoming more prominent. His productions were often marked by rushed schedules, tight budgets, and financial constraints. While Carpenter never made much money at the box office, he earned consistent work from studios due to his ability to deliver results within these limitations. When compared to other prominent filmmakers of his era, he stands out for his restrained execution of high-concept genre fare, often considered beneath filmmakers of that caliber. Carpenter is a master of infusing genre frameworks with a unique sense of personality, blending the cultural climate of the time with his own innovative ideas. This distinct combination of genre and culture is best exemplified in Carpenter’s 1981 film Escape from New York, a film that merges the American consciousness of the day with an atmospheric and compelling sci-fi premise to create a definitively American film.
Carpenter’s signature restraint applies to every frame of Escape from New York, a film that, from the first shot, immerses the viewer in the deep blues of the night sky and the dense blacks of New York’s depths. The simple text-over-black credits don’t feel out of place with the film’s color palette, and the idiosyncratic score that plays over them evokes a sense of adventure. The film uses atmosphere and mood to envelop the viewer in its world, allowing the setting to take center stage. The world itself is the highlight—while the action scenes don’t stand out particularly, and the plot isn’t overly complex, the simplicity of the setup allows the audience to fully invest in what they’re being presented.
The plot is simple: in a dystopian 1988, the President crashes in the new penal colony of New York City, and tough war hero Snake Plissken is blackmailed into rescuing him from the depths of the city’s underbelly. The audience follows Snake through his journey from start to finish, maintaining an unbroken perspective that allows us to see the world through his eyes and understand his character. Snake is a misanthrope, a textbook antihero—someone who has contempt for humanity but hates rules even more. Snake and the film, as producer Debra Hill describes, represent “the need to protect our libertarian rights.” He epitomizes the ultimate individual, one who resists all forms of oppression. He has no allegiance to anyone but himself seeks to further his own goals above all else.
In contemporary storytelling, rebellion is often justified. When characters like Harry Potter or Ethan Hunt defy their superiors and pursue their own goals, the films go out of their way to reassure the audience that it’s for the greater good. The authorities are either corrupt, incompetent, or oblivious, and it’s clear that the heroes are doing what “should” be done. Ethan Hunt doesn’t hate the IMF or the U.S. government; rather, he resents incompetent leaders unwilling to make bold decisions for the greater good. Snake, however, offers no such reassurances.
In the film, each faction is justified in its own way. The government tricks Snake and forces him to risk his life and the lives of others for their own gain. However, as Hauk explains, it’s all in the name of preventing nuclear war. The government was right not to trust Snake, but they made the best of a bad situation. Snake is a self-described asshole and criminal, but his autonomy is violated against his will—and, as we learn, he does seem to care about others. His doubt about the President as someone worth saving is reinforced by their encounter at the end of the film when Snake realizes how uncaring and out of touch the President truly is.
The individual is the most important element in this film. Despite being a representative of the government (which is portrayed as buffoonish and ineffective), Hauk is no-nonsense, tough, and straightforward, played by Lee Van Cleef, one of the coolest actors of his era. Even if Snake shoots him down at the end of the film, there is a sense that Snake respects him on some level. Snake is no better than Hauk; the difference between the two is that Hauk is willing to play “the game” and help the government, while Snake wants to tear it all down. If the character dynamics were more simplistic and preachy, the nuance and moral relativity would be lost. Snake’s decision at the end of the film could result in the deaths of millions, including his own, but he doesn’t seem to mind—and if you feel the same way, you might not mind either.
The rebellious nature and independent spirit of Escape from New York contribute to a distinctly American sensibility that is embodied in Carpenter’s greater filmography. America was founded through resistance and the dismantling of oppressive government mandates. Despite independence and resistance being core to the American identity, a system must still be constructed for society to succeed. This has led to friction between citizens and the government throughout American history. This conflict is reflected in culture, particularly in action films. How often does the action hero go against the cops and bureaucrats who perpetuate faulty systems? These systems only serve to hinder or complicate the simple truth that sometimes you must take matters into your own hands. As Carpenter puts it, “Authority is a human construction, and being something that is human, it is prone to corruption.”
This sense of American individuality is often expressed in the American Western and its outlaw heroes. Carpenter’s heavy inspiration from the Westerns of John Ford and Howard Hawks reveals why Kurt Russell’s role as Snake Plissken embodies the archetype of the outlaw western wanderer (and why Russell is doing a Clint Eastwood impression throughout the movie). John Carpenter never got to direct the Western he always wanted, but he translated many of the themes and emotions of the American Western into Escape from New York and the character of Snake. The film is an expression of this spirit.
By the 1970s, the Western had evolved from the days of John Wayne, and the American political landscape had grown more complicated. The Watergate scandal and the incrimination of President Nixon raised national doubts about the integrity of the American Presidency. Escape from New York was written during this time, reflecting Carpenter and the general populace’s resentment toward a leader they saw as out of touch and oppressive. Carpenter has said that “the whole feeling of the nation was one of real cynicism about the president.” By the end of the film, Snake isn’t just resisting the U.S. government, but the global community as a whole and the system that allows a small group of elites to dictate the lives of millions. He is not loyal to any one man simply because they carry the name of the country he’s from; he’s committed to the ideal.
Escape from New York doesn’t endorse any one ideology or worldview. What it does emphasize is the importance of freedom and autonomy in a world where some would try to take them away. This distinctly American spirit, coming from an American director and a film heavily inspired by the major American film genre, makes it one of the most authentic expressions of the American ethos. It feels fitting that the embodiment of this ethos would be something as rebellious, introspective, and fiercely individual as Escape from New York.