Gangs of New YorkIf you compare the history of the United States of America with the multitude of nations across the world, we are a relatively young nation, forged shy of two-hundred and forty years ago. Not one-hundred years in, a civil war which was long in coming came to pass, and the nation was divided. Violence ensued, and one side won--this is, in many ways, our legacy: violence...it is in our blood, and it stays on our blades. Even battles of less national consequence mirror the fiery individualism which boils within in the great melting pot of our country, a recipe which grows more rich and complex with each new addition.
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Martin Scorsese's Gangs of New York is the tale of a bloody and frenzied period of history on our own doorstep, in a neighborhood in mid-19th Century New York City called "The Five Points". In the opening scene, a son helps his father, "Priest" Vallon (Liam Neeson), prepare for battle, accompanied by a colorful crew bearing audacious costumes and wielding weapons which look vicious indeed. The whole scene resembles something out of the Middle Ages, or some other world; it is not until the door gets kicked down that we see the square whereupon a bloody battle between two armies is about to commence. In one corner are the Irish--the "Dead Rabbits" et al--fighting for acceptance in their new home; in the other are the curiously named "Natives", who seek to shut out those they presume to be invaders. Leading the natives is Bill "The Butcher" Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis), a colorful and imposing figure, a looming threat with a glass eye emblazoned with an eagle, ferocious and awe-inspiring in his rage. He slays Vallon, and sends his surviving son to an orphanage. Fast-forward sixteen years, and the grown Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio) is freed and begins his quest for revenge. Amsterdam's mission is clear from the start, and he sets his plan into motion without delay, abandoning any apparent distractions which would keep him from his vengeance. He sets to ingratiate himself into Bill's organization so that he might arrange for the opportunity to assassinate the mob boss, even finding some of his father's former comrades now turned Judas and falling in to Bill's new order. As time passes, Amsterdam discovers that Bill had a begrudging respect for his father, and that Bill begins to respect--even like--Amsterdam, and the lines between friend and foe blur beyond distinction. Although Amsterdam--like his father--draws inspiration for their holy work to "cast Satan out of Paradise" from the archangel Michael, his struggle bears more similarities to Jacob from the Old Testament who "wrestles" with God, just as Amsterdam wrestles with his own identity, his sense of national pride, of the lessons his father might have imparted to him about honor and what it means to be a man, his faith in God and in humanity. But whereas Jacob wrestled with God, Amsterdam must wrestle with Satan, it seems...or as is the case with the diabolical butcher that Bill Cutting is, the next best thing; Bill's hideout even goes by the name "Satan Circus", right on Paradise Square, just for emphasis. As the encounters with Amsterdam and Bill grow, so too does their bond, which makes it all the harder for Amsterdam to accomplish his task. In fact, when an attempt on Bill's life is made at the theater--all the more ironic, as Bill somewhat resembles Abraham Lincoln--Amsterdam not only protects Bill from the Irish assassin, but shoots the man in the process. Why would Amsterdam do the very opposite of what he intended himself? Because he has begun to understand his enemy, and knows who he is rather than simply what he is. But while Amsterdam plans to catch the "conscience of the king" at the annual celebration of his father's execution, Bill turns the tables in what plays out like a reversal of the third act of "Hamlet". Bill's response against his traitorous disciple is to shame him, just as Bill was shamed by Amsterdam's father. What happens is that this act of humiliation is done out of a mix of love and hate--we hate our enemies, yes, but we can find respect in them, because they too are passionate about what they love. Bill comments as an aside that he never had a son, implying that he views Amsterdam this way; the betrayal must hurt Bill as it hurts Amsterdam, but like a son, he wants him to grow, to become the man he should be. Amsterdam matures, and his rage become a force, one which unites and fosters solidarity among other like-minded people. Amsterdam's father shamed Bill, and Bill rose up to slay him; so, too, does Bill do this for Amsterdam--it could be said that our hate breeds our own executioners.
Much of what makes Gangs of New York such an identifiable film today is that many of the same problems present in that time are still problems for America today. Much of the film deals with the influx of Irish immigrants coming to America to escape from the Great Famine, and they are greeted with hostility and anger, resentment that they would steal jobs, corrupt our society, and are treated as second-class citizens. This bigotry still stains America, as does the shameless political pandering that counts the immigrants as mere votes or cannon fodder for the Civil War. One scene portrays a ship of Irish being led to sign to become citizens, immediately enlist, and ship off to elsewhere, just as that same ship is being unloaded of coffins containing dead soldiers. Also similar to today's social strife is the clash of rich against poor, of government against its own people. As the draft is being enacted, the citizens of New York furiously lash out in anger, against the injustice, against being ordered to go fight in a war they don't want to be involved in. Riots spawn, and the message is clear: violence will always be the response when those who perceive themselves as oppressed are backed into a corner, when equality is in question. The violence of the riots is the manifestation of fear, which brings out the worst in people, which spreads like a terrible fire, consuming everything. Neither right nor wrong, the rage ruins the city, victimizes others, and again turns brother against brother, and chaos runs rampant. As Bill is draped in the American flag as a blanket, seated upon a rocking chair, he relates to Amsterdam the story of how he came to be the powerful man he is: fear--for Bill, fear brings men to keel, and is for him a form of social justice, of "order" as he calls it. When Bill finally sees the fruits of his labor in the end, and what fear truly brings out in people, his defeat is final...not by Amsterdam, but by the country he claimed to love so much, executing his own brand of order. Bill's last words, "Thank God...I die a true American," are cutting, indeed, as this revelation has fallen upon him; his eye closes over the eagle, and the blood stays on the blade.
Recommended for: Fans of a slice of history not popularly discussed in Civil War courses...dramatized, yes, but based on true events, it is a reflection; and like all good reflections, it should give us a good look at ourselves and make us ask what kind of country we wish to live in.
Much of what makes Gangs of New York such an identifiable film today is that many of the same problems present in that time are still problems for America today. Much of the film deals with the influx of Irish immigrants coming to America to escape from the Great Famine, and they are greeted with hostility and anger, resentment that they would steal jobs, corrupt our society, and are treated as second-class citizens. This bigotry still stains America, as does the shameless political pandering that counts the immigrants as mere votes or cannon fodder for the Civil War. One scene portrays a ship of Irish being led to sign to become citizens, immediately enlist, and ship off to elsewhere, just as that same ship is being unloaded of coffins containing dead soldiers. Also similar to today's social strife is the clash of rich against poor, of government against its own people. As the draft is being enacted, the citizens of New York furiously lash out in anger, against the injustice, against being ordered to go fight in a war they don't want to be involved in. Riots spawn, and the message is clear: violence will always be the response when those who perceive themselves as oppressed are backed into a corner, when equality is in question. The violence of the riots is the manifestation of fear, which brings out the worst in people, which spreads like a terrible fire, consuming everything. Neither right nor wrong, the rage ruins the city, victimizes others, and again turns brother against brother, and chaos runs rampant. As Bill is draped in the American flag as a blanket, seated upon a rocking chair, he relates to Amsterdam the story of how he came to be the powerful man he is: fear--for Bill, fear brings men to keel, and is for him a form of social justice, of "order" as he calls it. When Bill finally sees the fruits of his labor in the end, and what fear truly brings out in people, his defeat is final...not by Amsterdam, but by the country he claimed to love so much, executing his own brand of order. Bill's last words, "Thank God...I die a true American," are cutting, indeed, as this revelation has fallen upon him; his eye closes over the eagle, and the blood stays on the blade.
Recommended for: Fans of a slice of history not popularly discussed in Civil War courses...dramatized, yes, but based on true events, it is a reflection; and like all good reflections, it should give us a good look at ourselves and make us ask what kind of country we wish to live in.