The Film Journal...Passionate and informed film criticism from an auteurist perspective.

Gangs of New York

By Rick Curnutte

Richard A. Curnutte, Jr. is the Editor of The Film Journal. He has studied English and Film at Ohio University and The Ohio State University.

I've been struggling with my feelings on Martin Scorsese's hugely ambitions but flawed Gangs of New York for several weeks now. Mostly I've been trying to sort out how a film so infuriating could have stuck with me emotionally for so long. I'm not sure I've come any closer to understanding it, but I'm going to give it a whirl.

Scorsese has been, and remains, my mainstay. His films brought me into the world of cinema (Taxi Driver, Mean Streets, The King of Comedy), kept me going as I came of age in the late eighties and nineties (The Last Temptation of Christ, Goodfellas, Age of Innocence) and continue to gratify me (Bringing Out the Dead, Kundun). Scorsese's films have moved me, made me laugh, made me cringe. With Gangs of New York, for the first time, a Scorsese picture had made me angry...with the filmmaker.

I've been following Scorsese's dream project for as long as I can remember. I've waited anxiously for its arrival. I've steeped myself in writing on the historical period in which it transpires (Herbert Asbury's The Gangs of New York, Tyler Anbinder's Five Points, John W. Hurley's Irish Gangs and Stick Fighting: In the Works of William Carleton). And upon viewing the film, I felt shattered.

I felt that Scorsese had placed too much emphasis upon two weak story elements: Amsterdam Vallon's (Leonardo DiCaprio) revenge upon Bill "The Butcher" (a mesmerizing Daniel Day-Lewis) and Amsterdam's romance with Jennie Everdeane (Cameron Diaz) and dropped the ball in regards to the larger-than-life frame story of the New York gangs themselves and their place in the Draft Riots. I had problems with the historical inaccuracies (Bill "The Butcher" wasn't even alive by the time of the Riots). But mostly, I felt robbed of the elusive "four-hour cut" that has become the stuff of legends. The disagreements over length between Scorsese and Miramax's Harvey Weinstein have become public fodder and many devotees feel like Scorsese has compromised his vision for the sake of better box office returns.

But as I sat down to sort out my thoughts on the film, I began to realize the real folly in the way I had approached my viewing of it. Scorsese could never have made the film I wanted to see. For the scope of Asbury's book and the time period to be fully realized, a film of ridiculously epic scope would have been required. Ten hours or better to really delve into the idiosyncrasies of the different gangs, the lasting impact of the Draft Riots, etc. Realistically, Scorsese probably made a pretty intelligent choice. Rather than try to tell everyone's story, he chose one man, a single being in the midst of the madness of 19th century New York and told his rather simple tale, with the worst riot in U.S. history as the crux of the film.

Gangs of New York was never going to be a moneymaker. Its cost was too high, and, by design, it would never be able to deliver the kind of audiences necessary to turn a profit (i.e. Titanic numbers). And Scorsese has already stated that there will never be a longer version of his film. No Director's Cut DVD. He insists that he only releases films as he intends them to be seen. Surely, a filmmaker of Scorsese's stature has final cut.

So why have I let preconceived perceptions get in the way of my appreciating what is actually a quite stunning picture? I decided to wipe the slate clean and approach the film as if I knew nothing about it beforehand (which is really what we should always do when writing about films).

Gangs of New York opens with the most electric 15 minutes of celluloid that I saw all year. Beginning in the dark, the film follows the Dead Rabbit gang as they make their way out of a pit in the earth to do battle with a rival gang, led by Bill "The Butcher". As they near the exit, a gang member kicks open the front door to reveal the bright, snow-fallen landscape outside. What follows is a bloody, kinetic battle, in which the Dead Rabbits leader (Liam Neeson) is slain, his son sent away to a child's prison and Bill takes control over the Five Points.

Cut to years later, when Amsterdam Vallon is being released from the prison/home. He walks out of the doors, tosses his Bible into the river and heads back to the Five Points, intent only upon revenging his father's death. The rest of Gangs of New York chronicles Amsterdam's stalking Bill, first from the outside, then as a member of Bill's inner circle, Bill becoming a father figure to the vengeful youth. Amsterdam finds himself feeling a strange sort of loyalty to Bill, even though he knows he must eventually square off against him. Thrown in the mix is a love story that I could still do without, that of Amsterdam and pickpocket Jennie. It doesn't really serve the film in any meaningful way, but it provides enough exposition that it's not too distracting.

The film culminates in two battles: the Draft Riots and the final gang fight between Bill's clan and the revived Dead Rabbits. As the city is ripped apart by looters and rioters, the two gangs square off, with Bill and Amsterdam in the middle. Eventually, Amsterdam gets his revenge, but with the death and destruction around him, the payoff is really moot. Essentially, Scorsese allows the audience to realize just how little Amsterdam's success has ultimately meant. He's just another thug that will disappear into history (metaphorically, as Vallon is not a real person). I guess I saw this as a flaw at first, but really it seems to be what the picture is about. Not just that "America was born in the streets", but that, for all of the violence, death and loss, the only thing that stands in memory is how things are today. The dead are forgotten. The grief and pain of the past fade away.

Scorsese is painting on his largest canvas yet. The scope of Gangs is enormous and the ambition behind its creation is moving. New York is a place that courses through the filmmaker's veins. He cares about it probably as much as he cares about the art that he creates. Gangs is his flawed, but lovingly created, ode to that great city.

In my rush to have my expectation fulfilled, I failed to allow the film and its director to inform me first of what I would really be experiencing. For all of its flaws, I can finally allow myself to say, Gangs of New York is one of the best films of the year.