Spring Cleaning -- Gangs of New York

I saw Martin Scorsese's Gangs of New York when it was theatrically released here in the winter of 2003. At the time I thought it was a great picture; not Scorsese's best, not by a long shot, but great nonetheless. I bought it when it was first released on DVD, but only today, almost 3 years later, got around to watching it for a second time.

It's a tricky film. It looks great, is well-acted (save for Cameron Diaz, who is a fairly talented actress but stinks in her performance as Jenny Everdeane), and the plot never gets too bogged down, which is commendable for a film that runs almost 3 hours.

Then again (here it comes), the characterization is piss poor, the narration -- always a crutch for a movie with a poor narrative structure -- is pointless and sounds as though it was written by a 10-year-old, and the film's main theme, a call for bipartisanship between republicans (the Natives) and democrats (the Dead Rabbits; love the name, by the way) in the aftermath of 9/11, is trite.

Henry Thomas's character, Johhny, perhaps best exemplifies the film's dearth of good characterization. He is Amsterdam's only friend (and that's stretching the definition of friendship a tad, because there's no comraderie between them), but he never displays any likeable qualities, and when he betrays Amsterdam to Bill the Butcher (expertly played by Daniel Day-DeNiro) and is later forgiven by Amsterdam, we not only want Johnny to get what he deserves -- which he does -- we also begin to hate Amsterdam, Leonardo DiCaprio's character, for being such a patsy.

And, seriously, what is so likeable about Amsterdam? DiCaprio turns in a good performance (he'd be one of the greats were it not for the fact that he seems more content resting on his laurels than being a prolific actor, which all the greats were), but his character is so bereft of redeeming qualities, and is such a, for lack of a better term, pussy, that it's much easier to root for Bill the Butcher, who is one of the more memorable and bastardly movie villains to come along in recent times.

Yes, the acting is wonderful for the most part; but it's like putting caviar on a Big Mac, or breast implants on an ugly woman: you can only get so far with an inherently flawed structure.

Likewise disappointing is the music which plays throughout the film. There are some sublime pieces, such as the propulsive drums and flute before the opening battle of the Five Points, but they are overshadowed by music and songs -- one of the biggest offenders of which is the rock score during the carnage of the Five Points melee -- that are awkward (and that's being kind) and have no business in the film's context. As the film closes with U2's The Hands That Built America, it's hard not to mutter an expletive in frustration. I won't even start on Howard Shore's recycling of the music he used in the Lord of the Rings pictures, or the annoying appearance of fiddlers and songstresses near the end of many a scene.

File this one under Scorsese's short list of misses, slightly above the cinematic abortion that was Bringing Out The Dead. I'd recommend Gangs of New York to serious fans of Scorsese, but, honestly, there's a lot more in the film to dislike than to like. Praise Orson Welles that America's greatest living director was able to redeem himself with The Aviator, one of the finest films, in my opinion, of the past ten years. He's still got it, but for each triumphant film he makes, he needs to surround himself with editors, screenwriters, actors and producers whom he is comfortable with and who compliment him. Unfortunately, Gangs of New York doesn't appear to be one of those films.

The Final Four:

Seven Samurai
Scarface
Training Day
Once Upon a Time in America