Gangs of New York review
posted on 20 December 2007
A Fourth of July marching band would fall short of the fireworks puffery that is Martin Scorcese's GANGS OF NEW YORK. It's a magnum opus of sorts for the director, who initially fiddled about with this project over two decades ago before launching his labor of love into a three-year, tabloid-scathed production.
To see Daniel Day-Lewis's stovepipe hat and contemptuous grimace in GONY as the motley consortium of snarling humanity that is Bill The Butcher is to be reminded of the film's ambivalent appeal: phenomenally over-the-top histrionics salvaged by its universally endearing themes. If GANGS OF NEW YORK trudges across the long historical horizon that is Civil War-era America, it can do so because of Scorcese's sweeping ambition coupled with an audience-friendly revenge story.
The film commences with the bloody grandeur of an epochal street fight, replete with skin-dicing cleavers and blood-strewn body parts, between the "Native American" gang led by cutthroat William "The Butcher" Cutting (Day-Lewis) and the immigrant Dead Rabbits gang led by Priest Vallon (Liam Neeson). After witnessing his father's death in the fight at the hands of William The Butcher, Vallon's young son is shipped off to an orphanage. Vallon emerges sixteen years later (Leonardo DiCaprio), naming himself Amsterdam and stoked with fires of vengeance.
Amsterdam shinnies up the chain as Cutting's right-hand man, whose real identity remains unbeknownst to Bill. The closer Amsterdam's target approaches him in his climb, the more weeds of shilly-shallying encompass the grassroots for revenge. Day-Lewis pushes a lion's worth of audacity in his tour de force role as the merciless racketeer man. The film's unrelenting depiction of moral squalor of the time, whether through Bill's ruthless modus operandi or the dog-eat-dog competition on the Manhattan streets, illuminates the rose-colored historical distortions it's aiming to debunk.
Of greater thematic import to Scorcese's story is history's unyielding might over its unwitting occupants. Bill The Butcher's dogged crusade against America's immigration influx in the nineteenth century smacks of myopic futility by current analysis. We can already foretell that David's going to be slain by Goliath this time around. When the stars finally align in perfect harmony for the inevitable HIGH NOON showdown between Amsterdam and Cutting, it's in keeping faith with this said theme that their face-off skews off to its whimsical outcome.
DiCaprio comes across as neutral in the effectiveness of his performance, arguably because he's left in the shadows so often by the spotlight turn from Day-Lewis. Cameron Diaz limps around in equal charismatic anonymity as Amsterdam's pickpocket love interest. Her liaison of compensatory loyalty with Bill doesn't quite evoke the sparks of a rivalrous fulcrum that it's intended to be. But the film has its heart in the right place, and the monotonous overload of its running time and breadth can be duly exempt from depreciating liability with the retrospective appreciation of several viewings.
GANGS OF NEW YORK may feel too drawn out by us to the point of dilution, but Scorcese's impassioned devotion leaves us impressed with his film's comprehensive splendor.