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The Attack of the Blockbuster Film
By Sunny MacMillan, Salisbury
Increasingly we are a nation fueled by "hype." Lobbyists get paid obscene amounts of dollars to "persuade" legislators to vote for policies which favor only "good ole’ boy" interests. Ads attack us on computer and TV screens and just about everywhere else words exist. What to believe?
Recently the film Gangs of New York finally surfaced after years of delay, rumor and just plain speculation—would it be as great as its director and related powers-that-be (read "investors/ studio") claimed? And besides, it signaled the return to the screen of baby-faced Leonardo DiCaprio and an actor's actor, Daniel Day-Lewis, who had eschewed leading man roles in favor of spending the last few years in Italy learning to make shoes. (Don't ask.) Now there is much talk of "Oscars," especially for Mr. Day-Lewis, whose mien in previous films—as changeable as a chameleon—is certainly enhanced by his having two last names. Who would pay as much attention to "Dan Lewis" or "Daniel Day"?
I confess. I went to see Gangs the day it opened. I went alone, knowing my spouse would not like this film. I was curious—and you readers may be, too. But prepare yourselves for what is a three-hour bloodbath that is incredibly revolting, boring, and one-dimensional to boot.
Before this film began, the audience got to watch the preview for the latest section of Lord of the Rings, which meant a screen filled with mayhem, violence, murder and much slashing of swords—all filmed in the darkest of tones, like the sun never shone—and if this was all in Middle Earth, maybe there was no sun. (Note: I am able finally to tell apart sequels to the Harry Potter films from sequels to Star Wars or the Rings because Harry Potter, glasses and all, looks exactly like a young Bill Gates of Microsoft billions.) Then on to more recent, reality-based slaughter.
Gangs is based on a book about violence in early New York City. It was mega-director Martin Scorsese's dream (nightmare? obsession?) for decades to film this. Almost all the action, murders and assassinations take place on one set built in Rome at huge cost and economic benefit to Italy; it features the infamous "Five Corners" in lower Manhattan. This results in almost all the action being filmed in the same spot, with the same goat, the same pigs and maybe the same harlots all appearing regularly in the same places in this frowsy central square. What action doesn't take place there occurs in some ill-defined subterranean space, complete with neatly lined-up skulls like a catacombs; or in some multi-purpose, enigmatic multi-storied building—including literal abattoir for "the Butcher" (DDL), a pit where a terrier fights bagfuls of rats, a roll-in-the hay site for the blessedly brief conjunction between Cameron Diaz and Leo, and so on.
Except for the scarlet and red of blood, this film is dark, darker, and darkest. No Edison had come along yet. It opens with much marching of louts underground with one gang leader (Liam Neeson) striding miles while intoning gangland killing rules to his adoring little son. These Irish immigrants finally emerge above-ground only to be vanquished by the rival "native-born" gang. There’s much graphic slaughter on both sides, with killing instruments like pikes, axes and worse slicing limbs off and beheading rivals. So much for the 1840s.
A few decades roll by. The young son (Leo, who we are told "beefed up" for this role so that his chest appears larger than the bosom of his pickpocket love interest, Ms. Diaz) reappears, determined to avenge his father. The expression on Leo's face and that of his arch-rival almost never vary. "Determination" furrows Leo's brow, and Day-Lewis is always sneering—cunningly, devilishly, malevolently—as he cuts up either animal carcasses or people.
This is one-dimensional acting at its worst. Leo may someday outgrow his baby face much as James Cagney did, but his wispy goatee, scraggly hair and perpetual frown do not an actor make. Yet. (Instead, go see Leo as a charming con-artist in Catch Me If You Can, where he actually shows a range of emotions and a slick, sophisticated comic bent.)
The second confrontation between these same two gangs coincides with the bloodbath and racial violence of the Draft Riots of 1863. (The draft was first used during the Civil War and favored the rich, who could buy their way out.) At one time or another rival police and fire-fighting groups, politicians like Boss Tweed, and the gangs tear one another apart.
Gangs uses religion and ethnic hatred well—a metaphor for today as we await our next war or "incident." Both gang leaders pray to their God before maiming and destroying "the enemy," whoever that may be at any given time. This film ennobles bloodshed, gore, meanness of spirit, revenge, greed and worse. Sounds like today's news from around the globe.
All this blood and gore and ethnic hatred for only about $100 million. A bargain, I guess, given what a real war costs.
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