Entertainingly sleazy gangster tale that pulses with hip-hop music and glittering big city vibes. It’s so mean and violent that it got booed by some of the hoity-toitys at its New York Film Festival premiere. It’s sort of the Scarface (the Al Pacino version) of the 90s in its money-slinging, champagne-guzzling underworld decadence. Its bloodshed is tame today, but its seedy atmosphere survives the years just fine. One reason why this story of a crime lord (a perfectly off-center Christopher Walken) who reclaims his power after he’s released from prison might have bothered some people is because of that old moral ambiguity thing that gangster films have been criticized for since the 1930s. Director Abel Ferrara and writer Nicholas St. John take time here to humanize both sides of the law. Christopher Walken is a murderous animal, but he’s also charismatic and has an unexpected social conscience. At the 
same time that he rakes in millions off the drug trade, he also works to save a beleaguered inner city hospital in a poor neighborhood. Meanwhile, the film also shows us the world of the police—portrayed here as underpaid, unappreciated souls—and their constantly thwarted efforts to bring Walken down.
There was something of a gangster movie renaissance in the early 90s. Goodfellas was the expansive masterpiece. Miller’s Crossing was the witty indie film. The Godfather Part IIIwas the disappointment. Bugsy was the prestigious biopic. And King of New York was sort of the low-budget wild card that, like a lot of films made by the always weird Abel Ferrara, matched exploitation grindhouse nastiness with arty eccentricity.
This also earned a following among lots of gangsta rappers who referenced and sampled lines from the film in their music. Future shooting victim The Notorious B.I.G. sometimes called himself The Black Frank White (Frank White being the name of Christopher Walken’s character here).