The red and black artwork of the CD booklet is hard to forget and suits the uncompromising, overwhelming physicality of the recording quite well. Inside the booklet is an excerpt of an essay by Milan Kundera titled "Xenakis, Prophet of Insensibility" which has intrigued me since I first read it - waiting for the tram on the Utrechtsestraat if I recall correctly....

When I revisited the essay recently I started wondering about the "from" part, which seemed to indicate that the actual article is longer than Richard Toop's translation that was included in the booklet. After a little research I discovered that another translation of this essay was collected in a book with collected Kundera essays called "Encounter."

When I retrieved this book from the library two things struck me. When republishing the essay in Encounter, Kundera inserted reflections. But what struck me most was that, in the 2009 collection, Kundera inserted retrospective qualifications directly into the original essay rather than adding a separate introduction or postscript. The interruptions feel awkward, almost like marginalia absorbed into the body of the text. As translations go, the translation of Linda Asher is quite different from Richard Toop's text. More remarkable, however, is that the excerpt in the Etcetera cd booklet is actually longer!

In the “Encounter” book the original French title of the essay and its source is not mentioned but an internet search tells me that Kundera initially published his article “Xenakis, “Xenakis, prophète de l’insensibilité”, in M. Fleuret (ed.), Regards sur Iannis Xenakis, 1981, Stock, Paris.

Kundera was notoriously protective of his definitive bibliography. In his later years, he systematically went back through his older essays and articles, heavily editing, streamlining, and truncating them so that only what he considered his “essential” thoughts survived in authorized volumes like Encounter.

Because Richard Toop translated his version in the late 1980s directly from the un-excised 1981 French source text, the Etcetera CD booklet accidentally preserved a larger portion of the original essay than Kundera’s own authorized 21st-century retrospective collection did. Linda Asher’s translation in Encounter reflects Kundera’s final, heavily manicured, and shorter French draft.

To this day, a complete, unedited English translation of the original 1981 essay outside of specialized academic papers or old out-of-print liner notes remains elusive—making the old red-and-black CD booklet a minor literary treasure.

There are a few clues. When the police cars enter the scene you can see that the street slopes uphill. Then there are the distinct wave-like colored brownstones. And if you watch the scene where Williams gets up the fire escape very carefully, you'll briefly see the Twin Towers above the roof of the building across the street. Inferring the street from that shot is easier said than done.

The honor for identifying the location goes to Jamie from the Facebook page Shot in New York. After fruitlessly searching in Manhattan for years he spent an evening looking for the distinct green copper window of the building (a firehouse) on the opposite side of the street. This search took him to Brooklyn Heights where the real location of the apartment was identified as 283 Hicks street!

It should not come as a surprise to anyone that a lot has changed since then; the fire escape is gone, the decoration around the door has changed, too, and sadly, the colored brownstones down the street now have a more muted color scheme. Interestingly enough, the distinct fire house across the street is still operational today.

It's an understatement to say that Fulci's bleak giallo takes us all over the place in New York City. DUMBO, Midtown and Times Square, the West Village, the piers, the Bronx, and we almost make it to Staten Island for the gruesome scene on the Staten Island Ferry. I am not aware of any scenes set in Queens but Jane's lavish residence at Sutton Square with its views of the Queensboro Bridge gets us close. Not to forget that Mickey Scellenda ends up dead on Roosevelt Island.

One consequence of the COVID-19 appointment-only policy of the museum was that there were not many people in the museum.

The scarcity of people wandering the building even permitted me to be completely alone in the room with Vermeer's "Meisje met de Parel" for an extended period of time.

Art by Ping Lim

Identifying the location of this club (or pool hall), and the prominently featured subway stop, has been a non-trivial challenge.

The fourth track on Francesco de Masi's seminal movie soundtrack is named "Puertorico Club" but this hardly constitutes a specific indication where this club might be (provided we can take the title literally).

In his excellent audio commentary for Blue Underground's 4K restoration of The New York Ripper, Troy Howarth identifies the scene as set in "Spanish Harlem." This impression might have been intended by the script writers but, to my knowledge, Harlem never had an above-ground subway line like this, unlike some areas in Brooklyn and Queens. The subway station in the movie scene is highly characteristic and, one would think, offers some definitive clues. Unfortunately, the signs on the subway are not featured prominently enough to nail down one specific station. For a considerable period I was reasonably convinced that this subway station was in Astoria, Queens and even visited some, only to come back disappointed. I was confident that a true New York City subway fanatic could solve this riddle and entertained contacting one online.

What finally enabled me to crack the case was a very close study of my set of Dutch lobby cards. As can be seen in the image below, a business name and address in the Bronx can be seen on one of the cards: 869 Longwood Avenue. This street happens to be in the South Bronx near the Prospect Avenue subway stop.

High on anticipation, but not in possession of a Porsche, I took the New York City subway. Upon exiting the Prospect Avenue station it became evident that the area around the subway entry on Westchester Avenue was the location of The New York Ripper's "Puertorico Club" scene.

There is no club or pool hall at this location today. A close view of the exterior windows in the movie indicates that this scene might have been shot on-site and not in Italy, which is an intriguing premise.

An unexpected surprise of this discovery was that this location was not only the setting for Jane's club scene, but was also around the corner from the historical Prospect Theater, where Fay was attacked by the killer and to which Fay returns again later in the movie.

The location of the Prospect Theater has also been a subject of speculation and people have suggested addresses ranging from Main Street, Flushing to Brooklyn. The actual location is at 851 Prospect Avenue in the Bronx. This theater has a long and fascinating history and opened on November 12, 1910. It was restored in 2000 and re-named the Olympic Theater for live performances. It was later closed and its interior gutted in 2006 and sadly looks like this today (2019).

Unbeknownst to most giallo and Fulci fanatics, there exists a set of 30 (!) Dutch lobby cards. The Dutch lobby cards are authentic and were made available by the now-bankrupt Dutch film distribution company Concorde Film from Den Haag for the release of the movie.

What is interesting about the New York Ripper lobby cards is that many of them show much wider shots or different angles than seen in the movie. Even more intriguing are the lobby cards that feature set photos, or even takes that were not used in the movie, such as Faye walking around the Prospect Theater area, or Jane wearing a tweed jacket with leather elbows while conversing with her husband. The lobby cards also feature subtle clues about New York locations that are hard to infer from watching the movie.

Their home at the end of E 58th street, 7 Sutton Square, formerly known as 1 Riverview Terrace, has a long and fascinating history. Unlike many other cities, the New York City waterfront was traditionally not considered a desirable place to live for wealthy people. During the 20th century, however, the neighborhood known as Sutton Place increasingly became an attractive and secluded place to reside. The residences on Riverview Terrace even enjoy a private, gated, waterfront park.

If one would go out and search for the building with its distinctive white brick and lemon shutters that is seen in The New York Ripper, one would have a hard time locating it since the house was restored back to its original red brick colors. Also missing today are the two sea creatures (modeled after the gates within the Giardino di Boboli in Florence, Italy) that sat on top of the entry gates to Riverview Terrace.

The choice of 7 Sutton Square as the couple's residence in The New York Ripper is suggestive because the decayed and corroded sights of the Queensboro bridge behind it draw attention to the neglected and dangerous New York City that is so prominently featured in Fulci's American giallo classic.

The Sutton Place neighborhood is no stranger to murder mysteries, as evidenced by the cover of Robert George Dean's "The Sutton Place Murders", a novel published in 1936.

Stefan Dziemianowicz about Jack Williamson’s novel, Darker Than You Think (1948) in Icons of Horror and the Supernatural: An Encyclopedia of Our Worst Nightmares.

"Throwbacks are born...Not often-so long as nature is left alone. It's all a matter of probability, and you can see the odds. But every man alive is a carrier, and most throwbacks are only partial. Literally millions of variations are possible between pure Homo sapiens and pure lycanthropus... Those born with a stronger inheritance are usually better aware of their unusual gifts - and more careful to conceal them. In the Middle Ages- so long as the Inquisition kept alive the ancient arts of witch-hunting-they were usually found and burned. Nowadays they fare better. They're able to realize their gifts, and organize, and plot to regain their lost supremacy...The throwbacks have begun to gather into secret clans. By mating among themselves, they have upset the random odds, and increased the probability of reversion...They are finding the carriers and using the modern science of selective breeding- with doubtless some improvements of their own- to filter out the dominant genes of Homo sapiens and so give birth to this powerful leader they're waiting for- the monstrous Messiah they call the Child of Night."

Sam Quain in Darker Than You Think (1948)

"...a 1979 Belgian poster looked less like an advertisement for an apocalyptic zombie movie and more like a sale at Sears. Looking back, the imagery seems entirely appropriate."

As was common in these days, the poster instructs the viewer to "prepare for one of the most chilling movies ever realized!!!" At the bottom in blue it further warns that Zombie is not for sensitive persons. And there is, of course, the obligatory mistake in writing Goblin as "The Goblin."

In the Brooklyn opening scene of the movie the Twin Towers are briefly visible when the camera pans to show Manhattan.

The second time we see the Twin Towers is during the scene where the young woman boards the Staten Island Ferry. What is intriguing about this scene is that the towers cannot only be seen just after the departure of the ferry, but there is also a quick cut to the towers during the murder scene in the car.

The Twin Towers can also be seen in this German New York Ripper lobby card below but, to my knowledge, this shot is not an actual shot from the movie and must be a production photo or unused footage.

The next time we see the World Trade Center is when the NYC police deploys a helicopter to assist in tracking down the location of the murderer's phone calls.

Not long after this scene, the World Trade Center is visible on several occasions when Lieutenant Williams arrives at the location where the calls were made but....

And if you look very carefully, you'll also get a glimpse of the Twin Towers when Williams climbs the fire escape to enter Kitty's apartment.

"Franz said, ‘Beauty in the European sense has always had a premeditated quality to it. We’ve always had an aesthetic intention and a long-range plan. That’s what enabled Western man to spend decades building a Gothic cathedral or a Renaissance piazza. The beauty of New York rests on a completely different base. It’s unintentional. It arose independent of human design, like a stalagmitic cavern. Forms which are in themselves quite ugly turn up fortuitously, without design, in such incredible surroundings that they sparkle with a sudden wondrous poetry.’

“Sabina said, ‘Unintentional beauty. Yes. Another way of putting it might be “beauty by mistake.” Before beauty disappears entirely from the earth, it will go on existing for a while by mistake. “Beauty by mistake” the final phase in the history of beauty.’

And she recalled her first mature painting, which came into being because some red paint had dripped on it by mistake. Yes, her paintings were based on ‘beauty by mistake’, and New York was the secret but authentic homeland of her painting.

Franz said, “Perhaps New York’s unintentional beauty is much richer and more varied than the excessively strict and composed beauty of human design. But it’s not our European beauty. It’s an alien world.”

Didn’t they then at last agree on something?

No. There is a difference. Sabina was very much attracted by the alien quality of New York’s beauty. Franz found it intriguing but frightening; it made him feel homesick for Europe."

Milan Kundera - The Unbearable Lightness of Being