Never Seen It, #68 of 200: Gangs of New York

*in an 1800s Brooklyn accent* I have a list of 200 movies that I'm going through and writing about, check it out HERE, check out the new one below.

Gangs of New York

2002

Martin Scorsese

"This will all be finished tomorrow."

"No it won't."

And so we come around again, back to the same old arguments, round and round, and some day it will also be dirt in an overrun graveyard, dust in the wind across a river.

I piss into that wind today, for today we examine another Martin Scorsese movie. The piss blows back and lands in my face, for today, I declare, once and for all, that I really like a Martin Scorsese movie. This one. Gangs of New York. This is the one.

This isn't a matter of killing the author. Don't worry, he's dead—the argument about whether Scorsese knows or cares what he is doing by showing these characters to the world still exists, in my warped, frustrated mind anyway—but the sights and sounds and—dare I say it—mise-en-scène was so extraordinary in Gangs of New York that the author basically went ahead and killed himself anyway. There's no need for such an argument when it's not grounded in the real world.

It wouldn't be disingenuous to say something pithy like "I'm just thankful this wasn't a mob movie." That's the truth, but also, maybe it's not? Early in the movie, when Johnny is explaining to Amsterdam how everything in Five Points runs through Bill the Butcher, Pam asked me what other movie or TV we've seen with a similar premise. My answer was: I dunno, The Sopranos? It's the idea of a "kingpin," and since Scorsese has done plenty of mob movies, he's no stranger to the concept. Gangs of New York, in story, isn't necessarily new. It's the window dressings that make it memorable.

One might even say that Scorsese himself is the kingpin in creating Gangs of New York. He takes aim at every single issue I've ever taken with films like this, and murder each and every one, and I'm waking up with a horse head under my sheets.

Like: Is Daniel Day Lewis a crock of shit for doing the whole "method actor" thing? I've argued that in the past, but Gangs of New York has shown me what a force he can be when he's just playing a charismatic villain, as opposed to a bundle of anxious nerves and neuroses like he does in the other films I've seen him in. I think it's stupid as shit that he felt like he needed to become an actual butcher's apprentice in order to prepare for the role of Bill the Butcher, but I cannot deny that he is masterful at delivering evil monologues while chopping meat.

Like: Is Leonardo DiCaprio the most overrated actor of all time? I've argued that in the past, but Gangs of New York has shown me how well the man can perform when he's just the fucking straight man. He's really effective as Amsterdam, who is more the audience surrogate than the protagonist. DiCaprio goes way too over the top when he's playing someone hopped up on cocaine or hopped up on heroin, but he plays it just right when he's hopped up on pure revenge.

Like: Is Cameron Diaz a good actor? I don't know if I've argued against that idea in the past, but I would've. Not anymore. She was fucking perfect here. Maybe I've only seen her in goofy comedy roles, I dunno. Gangs of New York grounded her and brought out the best in her.

Like: It's fucking stupid when the city of New York is a "character." This was the first time in my life that the idea was not eye-roll-worthy for me. I think that's because it barely even felt like New York to me. Pre-Civil War New York might as well be an entirely different universe. It fucking works, man.

Like: Scorsese's movies have way too much unnecessary fluff. The Irishman, for instance, got a lot of flack for being four hours long. Gangs of New York was two hours and 45 minutes, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was watching a long Scorsese movie in which not a single second was unnecessary. The momentum kept me enthralled throughout the entire runtime. I'd even argue that it should've been longer! I want to spend more time in this world!

Like: Scorsese doesn't appropriately portray his villains as the villains that they are. It's the most dubious argument I make on this blog, but I stand by it. I shouldn't have to argue with anyone for two hours about the moral turpitude of a Jordan Belfast type. Villains can be fun to watch, but I feel like the filmmaker is doing something wrong if you walk away from the movie viewing them as the hero. There's so much gray area to this argument that I can't even believe I talked myself into writing about it again, but here we are. I'm writing about it now because Gangs of New York had a firm grasp on what it was trying to say, and I think it made a pretty poignant point about the whole thing (at least more poignant than I ever knew Scorsese capable). We see it in the final showdown between Amsterdam and Bill, when they line up, ready to draw blood, and then all of a sudden the Navy starts shooting cannonballs at both sides. There's that mutual understanding that everything is fucked, there are no right sides, we're all the bad guy, and that we're doomed to be forgotten because we couldn't get over our pettiness, etc., etc. The fact that Jordan Belfast (as the primary example in my experiences with Scorsese) never really understood this point bothered me. In Gangs of New York, the point is well made.

Honestly, if Bill Murray had played John C. Reilly's part, then Scorsese might have dealt enough blows to Puke on Your Birthday that we'd be shutting down right now.

But here we are, still standing. The world is rapidly changing around us, and we continue on, to watch other, shittier movies, destined to be forgotten.

GRADE: 4.5 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: Speaking of shittier movies, I think we all know what to expect when we watch Tony Danza's The Garbage Picking Field Goal Kicking Philadelphia Phenomenon.