Scene Selection — Geoff Carter: Extras help viewer see Scorsese’s ‘Gangs’ mentality

Friday, Aug. 8, 2003 | 8:26 a.m.

Martin Scorsese's "Gangs of New York" (Miramax Home Entertainment, $29.99) drew the most astonishing critical notices of 2002, inasmuch as critics accused the film of being a half-measure on Scorsese's part. "A triumph for Scorsese, and yet I do not think this film is in the first rank of his masterpieces," Roger Ebert said, and many critics agreed.

When a nearly three-hour-long film with a $100 million-dollar budget is attacked for its shortcomings, one can safely infer that more is expected of its creator -- though it's impossible to imagine where Scorsese would have put that extra effort.

In "Gangs," the director of "The Last Temptation of Christ" and "Casino" has made an epic that makes the latter films look like small family dramas. It is too big for home viewing; it may be too big for any screen on this planet.

The story of New York's violent beginnings -- of Boss Tweed, the influx of Irish immigrants and the fearsome Draft Riots of 1863 -- is written on a canvas almost as big as the time period it represents.

Scorsese built sets that are among the largest you'll ever see on the screen ("This is the last time you'll see sets of this size," he rightfully boasts), and assembled a cast that can play as large and loud as anything he throws at them.

This isn't a movie; it's a war, and in war, there are casualties. In this case, Scorsese loses much of the deviant charm that makes his films so engaging.

We want Joe Pesci to shoot Michael Imperioli in the foot -- not because we're ghouls, but because the character quirks of "GoodFellas" have carried us to that point.

We want to see the characters pushing their way out of their scripted roles, like the old eyeball poke of a 3-D movie. Many of the characters of "Gangs" seem too cowed by their surroundings to act out.

The notable exceptions to this are Daniel Day-Lewis, who plays gang leader Bill the Butcher with an accent that's impossible to describe or imitate and mannerisms that border on the alien, and Jim Broadbent, who, as Boss Tweed, is properly operatic.

But the two linchpins of the story, Leonardo DiCaprio's young thug, Amsterdam, and Cameron Diaz's lady thief, Jenny Everdeane, merely work to expectations -- and our attention is drawn away from them to the background, which is in a constant state of meltdown.

The documentary extras on this two-disc set faithfully document the cause and effect of those explosions, fictional and nonfictional alike. "Low Life" author and New York historian Luc Sante offers invaluable insights into the city's origins; Scorsese gives tours of the film's incredible sets; a Discovery Channel documentary fills in the blanks.

If these primers could have been shown along with the film, critics might have come away from "Gangs of New York" with a better opinion of the film's worth.

As it stands, Scorsese made the only film anyone could make of this human wreckage, and its critical stature will rise with time. I prefer to think of it as Scorsese's "Episode 1" -- the genesis of the New York he created in his films, the world in which Travis Bickle, Henry Hill and the ambulance drivers of "Bringing Out the Dead" will eventually burn their marks.