In the short narrative, "Choosing a Dream," Mario Puzo writes, "I had the most valuable of human gifts, that of retrospective falsification: remembering the good and not the bad" (Puzo 44).  His writing tells of the wide array of difficulties he encountered coming from a family of Italian immigrants in America during the early twentieth century and successive memories that viewed these times as a blissfully simple past.  The "gift" he writes about is a natural repression of the negative that constructs an individual's subconscious.  Although aware that he has dismissed the off-putting elements from his immediate memory, the rejections were not of his own cognizant decisions. 

While it is debatable whether or not repression of the negative is done for good or ill, the process clearly becomes harmful when applied to a cultural mainstream.  Too often successive generations unknowingly exercise retrospective falsification; entire histories are discarded, created and reconstructed, advocating the ideals of a particular group.  In doing so, fact and fiction fuse and institute a culture's mythology—eventually accepted as a factual history in said culture's collective unconscious—and comprises a cultural identity.  Often the ideals in which the myths are intended to uphold and promote are in turn undermined when the omission and alteration of elements passes as uncontested factual history.  What is commonly deemed "American History" is essentially a new set of myths that form the identity of the "American People" that are relatively undisputed in mainstream culture.  These are not off par with those of the ancient Greeks and Romans.  Various champions of history —Washington, Franklin and Lincoln among others—must merely wait as each successive generation continues to further deify them in a euhemeristic manner.  Adhering to the myths that construct this identity too steadfastly, as did the aforementioned civilizations, will lead to a contradiction of ideals and a future that is neither productive nor progressive.  The celebrated events of American History must regularly be acknowledged in context with its more inglorious aspects in order to continually move towards the ideal country expressed in the Constitution.

Since myths are best solidified and preserved through various forms of art, it is only fitting that art be the best suited to comment on them.  Unlike earlier civilizations, modern ones have the advantage of far superior technologies that help to sustain greater amounts of historical fact, even if in small fragments without much cohesiveness.  Although mass printings have been accessible for nearly six centuries, film is a relatively new art form with both visual and aural capabilities that suspend an audience's disbelief beyond that of any other medium.  Prolonged visually and audibly animate depictions allow films to embed themselves into their audiences' subconscious, ever so slightly tailoring common (mis)conceptions.  Historical epics are themselves a new form of mythmaking that have the ability to gradually reflect and reshape the myths that construct a culture's identity by putting certain events in a new, "living" context.

In his adaptation of Herbert Asbury's book The Gangs of New York (1928), Martin Scorsese utilizes a crucial period in which the title city (for all intents and purposes, the country) began to forge a new identity amidst a war and mass arrivals of immigrants (mainly from Ireland).  Although Gangs of New York's (2002 United States) narrative lies in the mid-nineteenth century, its message—dismissing the past can threaten the ideals of the present and their progression into the future—rings very true in today's contemporary society in which it was made.  The mythic realm of the film, with characters as remarkable as the Heroes and Titans found in Hesiod, combats the American myth of the flawlessness of the Union and the North during the Civil War and its relation to a present American identity.  To do so, the film depicts the emergence of a political structure that has evolved into the one in existence today from an essentially tribal culture by means of conflicting and contradictory elements, mirroring the progresses of ancient civilizations.  The feature defamiliarizes New York City in its opening moments into a place that, according Jorge Luis Borges (who wrote the foreword to Asbury's book) "possesses all the confusion and cruelty of barbarian cosmologies, and much of their gigantism and ineptitude" slowly revealing its links to modern American society and culture(Borges 11).  Based on genuine accounts from the Five Points district of New York City, Gangs of New York details the immigrant experience with an invented, yet viciously earnest tale of revenge. The, on many accounts, more valid depiction of New York offered in the film is essentially a polar opposite of the mythological and altruistic Eden read about in contemporary grade school history books.  Its continually brutal imagery offers a rebuttal to a Civil War era that champions a slave-liberating and united North lead by "Honest Abe".    The film depicts real, created and modified characters.  The dichotomy employed between the Irish immigrants and their leader, "Priest" Vallon (Liam Neeson) and the Natives and Vallon's nemesis, Bill "The Butcher" Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis), finds synthesis in the character of Vallon's son, Amsterdam (Leonardo DiCaprio)—his physical and mental anguish exemplifying the development of American identity through a turbulent history.  This national identity materializes in Amsterdam and the city of New York simultaneously through conflicting narrative aspects—via issues of religion and patriotism that remain at the core of American identity today—and contradictory musical elements; the importance of this essentially "foreign", conflict-ridden history's remembrance correspondingly manifests itself visually with a series of rituals and mutilations, and musically through its diverse and often cacophonic soundtrack.

In the well-disguised New York presented in the film's opening scene, religion—in this case, Christianity—is the first fairly recognizable element in which contemporary American audiences can identify.  This is quite fitting since religious freedom often comes to mind as one of the first reasons for America's settlement by various groups.  Even viewers who are of a different faith or not religious at all recognize Christianity and its association with the laws and values that shape American identity.  Scorsese incorporates the contradicting concepts of America as a land of salvation with religious freedom and a virtually Protestant theocracy into the film's narrative by shaping the aforementioned dichotomy into a battle between a biblical "good" and "evil" (the Irish and the Natives respectively) and how their simultaneity in the country's past has shaped the present.  By juxtaposing the nature of each groups' appeals to their respective divinities with the actions they perform in order to protect their belief structure, the film utilizes the violent outcome of stubbornly following and (to an extent) enforcing a set of myths—one that ultimately results in little progress.

The Irish, established as the protagonist group of the film, represent the "good" element of the feature, emphasized by characters with nicknames such as Priest and Monk.  They are united due to a shared Catholicism, headed by the pope and the Vatican in Rome.  The Catholic God of the Irish is one of mercy and compassion, leading its people towards salvation.  Met with a great deal of resistance by the Protestant Native population, the Irish turn to their God to aide in their fight in order to attain redemption in their new country.  This God is a defensive and protective deity.  Before they enter the battlefield, Vallon and the other Irish "receive a profane Eucharist from the hand of their Priest", praying for defense during the fight (Blake 31).  Their contradictory behavior, however, when their plea for protection of their Lord from the savagery of the Natives leads to an offensive move to enforce their religious dominance.

The use of violence in the name of this merciful Lord is made explicit in Vallon's character throughout the film's opening moments.  In the depths of the brewery, he makes the mission of the Irish army clear by praying not to the Lord, but to the archangel Saint Michael, known for casting Satan from Paradise.  Priest clearly sees this to be his mission as well—the major center of the Five Points, conveniently called Paradise Square, is where the battle for the land will occur.  In his efforts to lead the immigrant population and their families toward "salvation", he attempts to emulate the achievements of myth.  Before engaging in battle, Vallon makes his cause known, revealing more of a mission to eradicate the Natives, not one to banish Satan (Bill) and deliver the remainder of the people from sin:

Priest's adherence to his faith, though key in uniting the Irish of the district is part of his eventual downfall.  Vallon's zealous mirroring of Saint Michael is an utter failure—his actions contradict the nature of his God.  His son witnesses Priest cutting through the crowd holding a large, iron, Celtic cross, used both as a shield and as a weapon, beginning Amsterdam's essential baptism in blood.  This element of the opening battle sequence illustrates the nature of the Irish and their God.  They unite behind Vallon—uniting behind the faith he literally carries with him into battle—and trust "the true Lord" to protect them as well as destroy their opponents.  Though Priest and the Irish pray for deliverance from the oppressive Natives and to receive redemption, their plan of action consists of brutality and wickedness similar to that of their adversaries.

It is Bill and the Natives—the "evil" end of the spectrum—who claim victory in the 1846 battle for the Five Points.  They are able to do so by carrying out actions that coincide with the nature of the Protestant God they pray to.  The Natives worship a deity of offense—they do not look for its protection from the Irish, but for its aide in obliterating them.  "May the Christian Lord guide my hand against your Roman popery", is Bill's decree before the opening battle (ibid).  Bill makes this contempt for the Vatican's involvement in the Christian faith and other affairs clear on several occasions.  He sees it as his duty to protect the America in which he was born, not necessarily from foreigners, but from another faith that, although extremely close to his own, threatens his dominance over the district.  His God, in his eyes, is fair, rewarding those who lead pure lives and condemning those who have sinned. Bill's religious side is conflicted by the evilness of his character; his customs, structured around sin, contradict his belief in a just higher power.

Although the Natives are Protestants, Bill also serves as a blatant allusion to Satan in several instances, and essentially the film as a whole.  This comparison is made in the opening when Priest's aim is clear—to cast Satan (Bill) from Paradise (Square)—as well as by his comic book-like villainous mustache.  The similarities become more literal during the bulk of the film's narrative sixteen years later after the opening battle.  The Five Points district is a land of sin, a modern Sodom and Gomorrah.  Greed, lust and virtually every type of temptation overrun its citizens.  Thieves walk freely, their crimes being the fault of their victims' lacks of cautiousness.  Bars and brothels are one in the same, as the missionaries trying to save the children of Five Points are viewed as corrupting the district's natural order.  At the center of all the drunken, violent and lecherous activity resides Bill in Satan's Circus, a fittingly named house of sin.  Bill's reign in the Five Points, though illegitimate, remains solid since the 1846 clash with the Irish.  He, in some way, offers every form of temptation and receives his income—his homage—as a result.  The law exists, yet its members also succumb to their fears of the Native leader and the temptations he offers (the police chief takes his cut from the stolen goods brought to "the Butcher").  Annually, Bill commemorates the Native victory of 1846 by "consuming" the life force of his fallen enemy (Priest) by swallowing a flaming glass of liquor.  This closeness to and ceremony involving fire alludes to the biblical hell.  When not in Satan's Circus, Bill is often in another allegorical hell—his butcher shop.  Here, surrounded by carcasses and constantly covered in blood, he practices his techniques of violence towards his fellow man.

In contrast, it is in his shop where Bill demonstrates his kindest behavior and (to some extent) attitude.  Here he gives fresh cuts of meat away to virtually all who stop by to visit.  His philanthropy is as admirable as the charity of the missionaries that frequent the Five Points.  Bill views himself as a good man with a mission, much like Vallon.  Like his rival, Bill prays for the deliverance of his people.  The major difference is that Bill is in a position of power not experienced by the oppressed Irish.  He does not need protection, as he is native to America.  It is "The Butcher's" belief that his Protestant God is just and will affect judgment on the Irish for soiling the purity of their (Bill and his God's) land.  However, despite this belief in a God that punishes sinners, Bill does not feel he will be judged for the countless sins (most of which are explicitly discouraged in his Bible) he has committed.  It is this attitude he expresses in his prayer prior to the final clash with the Irish.  "For you are the Lord, God, of retribution" Bill humbly states knelt before an American flag in his butcher shop (ibid).  Bill considers America as his God's holy ground to be defended—those native-born to the land are children of this Lord and should not worry about their own sins.  Bill's heightened sense of power leads to a self-righteousness in which he believes to be the divine cleanser of God's earth.  Like Vallon, Bill's contradictory actions in relation to the nature of the God he believes in bring about his destruction.  His choice to commit and perpetuate sin, ignoring the wrath of his own God, is symbolically rectified in the cannon fire that rains down on the city during the 1863 draft riots.  "The Butcher's" Sodom and Gomorrah receives a storm of modern, military brimstone, producing the shrapnel that strikes him, leaving his death inevitable.

The events of Amsterdam's past, as shown in the opening scenes of the film, shape him into a progressive amalgamation of the various views of each religion and of good and evil.  Born Catholic, Amsterdam is aware of his father's beliefs, most importantly that of Saint Michael and the religion's reliance on its God for deliverance from evil.  After his father is killed, he becomes property of the state and is sent to a Protestant reformatory named Hellgate.  The name of this institution fits both in its linking between the film's Protestants and "evil", and its serving as Amsterdam's entryway into the world of corruption, sin and vice that is Five Points.  His true identity disguised from Bill as he is taken under the Native leader's wing, he experiences New York from the sides of both the oppressed and the oppressors.  This has a direct effect on the nature of Amsterdam's religious beliefs and the matter in which he prays to his Catholic God (not exactly the same one as his father).  Amsterdam claims to practice the same faith and follow the same protective God that his father did; his early concentration on the story of Saint Michael sways his prayer towards a vengeful Lord similar to Bill's.

A major difference that separates the mentality of Amsterdam from his father and Bill is his lack of self-righteousness.  In the 1846 battle, both of the armies of gangs' leaders claimed to fight in the name of their Lord, linking their religion to their cause.  By doing so, Vallon and Bill both took on the role of savior for their respective people.  This act alone contradicts the very notion of either man's sect of Christianity—Christ is the only true savior of all mankind.  The beliefs of Vallon and Bill that they have a religious duty to save their own people, immediately alienates the opposing group and compromises both the figure and ideal in which the faith was structured, as well as the concept of religious freedom in America.  Bill, taking the notion a step further, attempts to equate himself with the God he prays to.  In his final prayer, Bill glares straight ahead as if to create a casual conversation with his divinity.  He also alludes to having the ability to of harnessing his Lord's power physically, opening his prayer with "you are the dagger in my hand" (ibid).  He has shifted from pleading for the Lord to guide him in 1846 to controlling the same deity and using it as a weapon.  Amsterdam's motives are not religious and he does not accept the religious mission implored by the reverend at Hellgate—he casts the Bible handed to him into the black waters of the harbor, refusing the job of fixing the "country torn apart by civil strife" and the obligation of forgiveness (most notably towards Bill, ibid).  He is motivated solely by revenge—his need for vengeance is what makes Bill's Lord appealing and why he incorporates the notion of this deity of retribution with the teachings of his father.  In concerns of religion, Amsterdam becomes an individual.  His relationship with his God is personal and does not greatly affect the way in which he interacts with any one group.  Amsterdam seeks no special treatment or redemption from his God, he prays to it as an act of sheer ritual.  He believes that this God is vengeful and will judge him on equal grounds as anyone else for his deeds.  At one point, the crucifix is revealed in a scene as "it witnesses Amsterdam's struggle with one of Bill Cutting's accomplices", a former Dead Rabbit (Panelli).  Not only does Amsterdam kill the disloyal Irishman (now a policeman in the Five Points) in view of the sunlit cross, but also crucifies the body on a lamppost in Paradise Square.  Amsterdam does not expect exemption from his God's wrath.  He willingly commits these sins in order to achieve personal vengeance—Amsterdam relies on his deity only to judge his father's killers and betrayers justly, after he himself sends them to this judgment.

Juxtaposed with Bill's appeal to his Lord before the conflict (as well as one of a New York aristocrat), Amsterdam, too, has a moment of prayer prior to battle.  The prayer, shown in non-sequential pieces, is as follows:

Guide my hand on this day of vengeance…let my sword devour, until its thirst is quenched with blood, and my enemies sleep forever…for the Lord crushes the wicked… amen.  (Gangs of New York)

Amsterdam, like Bill kneels humbly while appealing to his deity.  However, he amplifies his humbleness with the bowing of his head and closing of his eyes.  Also contrasting with the shots of Bill, Amsterdam clutches his father's Saint Michael medallion.  The combination of Amsterdam's verbal plea and his actions illustrates his role as the progressive amalgamation of the conflicting elements of each religion as well as good and evil.  He prays in a manner that reflects Bill's opening rhetoric when facing off against Vallon (the wish for his Lord to guide his hand offensively).  Amsterdam wishes for his God to aide him in committing the savage act of murder.  His grasping of the Saint Michael piece, however, relates to the cause of his father.  Amsterdam is appealing to this God for offensive reasons, yet it is in regards to an assault on "evil" and "Satan"—Bill.  Amsterdam does not pray for the prevalence of any one group of people or a certain faith.  He merely wants swift revenge.  It is Amsterdam's prayers that are the closest to being answered in the final confrontation between the Natives and the Irish.  The artillery mortars launched into the middle of Manhattan Island's various districts kills the wicked—rioters, corrupt politicians, prostitutes, and gang members—indiscriminately and rapidly.  Though Bill's death is inevitable, Amsterdam must finish him personally.  The wound he inflicts on Bill finishes the baptism began sixteen years ago.  Amsterdam returns his father's blade, along with the corpse of Bill to the earth.  Covered in blood that is indistinguishable from his own, Amsterdam is reassured of "his responsibility in the city bloodshed, and the burying of the blade is his act of contrition" (Panelli).

Religion is a multi-faceted element of Gangs of New York.  It serves to familiarize the audience in the film's opening moments only to suddenly become alienated from those same viewers' common conceptions.  The conflicts over religion in the feature question the tales of the Puritans', Jews' and other religious groups' journeys of immediate deliverance upon touching American soil.  The conflict of "good" and "evil" climaxes and synthesizes in the character of Amsterdam.  No single group or faith is saved or viewed as better; many of the "wicked" are destroyed by a greater outside force—that of the military, not an angered deity.  However, after the smoke clears, America carries on, shaped by the conflicting ideas and various rituals (i.e. religious practices).  Amsterdam represents both the flawed and the pure, incorporating and utilizing the differing concepts of each faith—each side (good and evil)—in order to progress past his day of vengeance and beyond a New York structured around mutual hatred and religiously stubborn, tribal violence, while keeping his faith a safe distance from the rest of his life.

The soundtrack of the film, like its religious motifs, espouses the idea of repetition and ritualism for the sake of remembrance.  Similar to the use of elements such as prayer and ceremony as a way to link a otherworldly past to a familiar present, the film employs leitmotif as a means of stressing Amsterdam's own recollection of a past constructed of what he believes is a combination of reality and dreams and its relevance in his present situation.  His perceptions, created from mixed background as a child, instill in Amsterdam a memory composed of savagery.  This becomes increasingly familiar to the adult Amsterdam as his need for vengeance increases upon recognizing various members of his father's gang (most of whom have sided with the Natives).

The piece titled "Shimmy She Wobble (Othar Turner and the Rising Star Fife and Drum Band) works repeatedly with the visuals of the film in order to serve a purpose similar to the role that religion plays in the film's narrative.  The second musical piece of the film (the first diegetic example), "Shimmy She Wobble" immediately follows Howard Shore's original score, "Brooklyn Heights".  Compared to the serene, barely noticeable and traditional scoring of Shore's piece, "Shimmy She Wobble" seems primitive, forceful and outlandish.  Charging the march of the Dead Rabbits gang through the tenement building, the piece, "a thrilling cacophony of drums and a wheedling, inhuman fife set the mood—and the mood is barbarous" (Parker 43).  Though played with military cadence and rhythm, the snare is far from crisp and seems primitively tribal, especially when combined with images of a group African Americans dancing—frenzied and sporadic—and other grotesque characters honing medieval weaponry.  The fife accompanying the drums is played unsteadily, creating utter discomfort in the viewer/listener.  The first use of "Shimmy She Wobble" helps to nearly force American audiences into total disassociation with the film from the start (Liam Neeson's appearance and the Dead Rabbits' Eucharist, quite possibly the only elements that viewers know, keeps them more actively engaged in watching beyond this opening scene).

Upon repeated use, the song becomes an excellent example of leitmotif.  Upon first hearing the piece, its timbre suggests something military or tribal.  The accompanying visuals and the following battle scene lets the audience realize that it means precisely that—the battle is one between tribal armies.  The instrumentation of the piece carries other associations as well.  The fife, with its almost snake-charmer quality, inspires feelings of whimsy and mystical timelessness.  Purity is suggested, as well, in the grainy, unedited sound of the recording.  These associations are exactly what make the piece a useful example of leitmotif in later moments in the film.  When the adult Amsterdam returns to the Five Points, he encounters many of the surviving members of his father's Dead Rabbits gang, including McGloin, Monk and "Happy Jack".  Upon sight of each of these characters, footage of them in the tenement building in 1846 is recycled, illustrating Amsterdam's memory of these characters as a recurring dream.  Accompanying the flashback footage with gradually rising volume is "Shimmy She Wobble" and the memorable dreamlike whimsy of the fife in its hook.  The fading in of the tune dulls the edge it has in its first occurrence, becoming less aurally threatening each time it is repeated. The initial association of the piece with tribal and military associations, along with the aforementioned timelessness and purity of its timbre, is now associated directly with those same aspects in Amsterdam's childhood.  The purity of the tribal system in which his father was deeply rooted, though shattered by corruption and treason, is not forgotten.  "Shimmy She Wobble" and the use of leitmotif, like religion and the use of ritual and ceremony, brings the audience into the film at various points as it begins to serve as an element of familiarity and comfort.  The stressed repetition of both elements urges the remembrance of a harsh, honest past.

As the film progresses sixteen years, the alien New York is fully emerged as an American city of the Civil War era.  Flags, political banners and union soldiers ornament the various landscapes in and around Five Points.  Such visual elements in a wartime setting espouse a theme of patriotism very familiar to contemporary audiences.  The ambiguity of what constitutes patriotism allows for another dichotomy between the same characters, once again making Amsterdam the synthesizing force of the film.  Different ideas behind patriotism—cultural pride and nationalism—are exemplified in Priest and Bill respectively.  Both men exhibit different forms of a self-contradicting patriotism, rooted in their cultures' pasts.  Amsterdam, apprentice to the former and son to the latter, illustrates an amalgamation of the two ideals, his mental and physical anguish exemplifying the development of American identity through a turbulent history  —scars and mutilations inflicted upon and by Vallon, Bill and Amsterdam urge the remembrance of a flawed yet progressive history.

The Irish illustrate the blending of individual cultural pride and a patriotic optimism towards the American Constitution that, to this day, adds to the diverse richness that can be identified with American culture.  Harassed and assaulted from the minute they walk off of the ships, the immigrant groups encountered a rather unwelcoming nationalist culture; some demanded they assimilate, others preferred they just leave.  They did not, however, allow themselves to be deterred.  Although disadvantaged, Irish families soon had borne children native to America, to whom they would pass on their faith, traditions and, to many, an understanding of the Gaelic tongue.  After some time, immigrants—weary of being mistreated, yet still determined to live in a free land of opportunity—responded with actions.  The Irish embody an aspect of patriotism based on their native culture.  They love and will fight to retain their beliefs and the culture of their homeland.  Furthermore, they are determined to do so in America, equating their cause with the cause of upholding the freedoms expressed in the United States Constitution.  The Irish are dually patriotic in this manner.  Their cause was as noble as those who fought against the British in America's previous wars; their refusal to abandon the culture from which they came has enriched a culture of diversity in the country today.  Through suffering and violent confrontations, the Irish of the film represent and rationalize a horrific past not to be overlooked.

In the opening shot, Vallon, shaving before battle, intentionally slashes his cheek, handing the razor down to his son.  When Amsterdam attempts to clean it, his father instructs "No, son, never.  The blood stays on the blade", explicitly stating the feature's message of remembrance  (Gangs of New York).  Priest's self-inflicted laceration echoes the tribal aspect of the characters of the film—not just because of its ritualistic nature, but also its visual allusion to war paints worn by many groups.  Although Vallon fights to better the future of immigrants in America, he is bound by his loyalty to the same tribal code of conduct that binds Bill and the Natives.  He adheres to tribal law and therefore roots himself indefinitely in the past and is unable to progress into the future of a changing America.

After both sides gather in a momentarily serene Paradise Square and vocalize their causes—both linking to their faiths and pasts—a chaotic battle ensues in which a barrage of mutilations is made available.  The clash ends when Bill deals a fatal blow into Vallon's side.  Fallen, Priest looks into his son's eyes and remarks, "Don't never look away" (ibid).  Vallon's downfall is his stubborn adherence to the past.  He and his followers link the feud with Bill and the Natives to those between the British and Irish in Europe over their differing faiths.  They do not seek to change the situation by means of a changing political atmosphere, but by fighting fire with fire.  Priest follows the advice he gives his son too closely and with excessive cultural pride, he stays rooted in the past, a path that simply leads to more agony for he and his people.  As Vallon lies dying, Bill kneels next to him stroking his head in a comforting, nearly regretful manner.  While he does this, Vallon holds his son's face—the first visual linking of the differing ideals into one—and asks Bill to kill him off.  Bill obliges out of respect for a fellow warrior of the same, dated tribal system.  The respect Bill has for his nemesis is made more apparent when he warns the rest of the gang members not to touch Priest's body—ears and noses are to be taken as trophies from the rest of the dead.

Bill's decree to leave Vallon's body untouched demonstrates a contradictory character much like that of his adversary.  He respects Priest and his honor very deeply, yet he still feels the need to protect American soil from "the foreign hordes defiling it" through savage actions (ibid).  Like Vallon, he lives by a tribal code and does not incorporate or utilize the changes in America into his identity as an American.  Also similar to his adversary, Bill's mentality stresses the past, although it is one made of altered facts and contradictions.  He identifies himself as American by both his birth in the country and his father's service in the war of 1812, "fought to preserve America as the Union…built on the foundation of liberty laid by the patriots of the Revolutionary War" (Mattie 217).  Bill does not believe that his connection to the country in such a way extends to others.  The Irish coming into New York in the 1860's were regularly steered onto ships heading south to fight in the Civil War, the most famous war fought to preserve the Union.  "According to Bill's martial understanding of patriotism, it would seem that the Irish are becoming patriots"(ibid).  However, he dismisses the war as Lincoln's excuse to liberate slaves.  This dismissal also explains why Bill himself does not fight for the preservation of the Union.  His ideals seem to support those of the Confederacy that is fighting the America he is so enthusiastically patriotic about.  Bill grounds his patriotism in a mythical past, refusing to acknowledge the continuing changes in America since the 1846 clash with the Irish—although corrupt, a political system is replacing the tribal one in the city.  Bill pays no mind to the Democratic process in which his father had fought for.  The 1846 battle itself has become legend; artwork depicts a victorious Bill standing over Vallon's body, solidifying his unofficial rule over the Five Points.  In celebration of the Native victory over the Irish and Vallon, Bill holds a full-scale gala that acts as a stand-in for an Independence Day celebration.  Though he intends to honor Vallon with this event as well, Bill takes particular actions to suppress insurgency; he strictly declares that the name of the Dead Rabbits is not to be uttered.  What he considers patriotism remains a xenophobic nationalism because it is too strongly rooted in a Five Points myth—Bill does not learn from his actual past, but lives in the false one created by hearsay—a mentality that leads to a death similar to that of his opponent.

Upon first sight of Bill and the native gangs, his patriotic blindness is made literal.  Bill has a glass eye with the United States emblem etched in it.  Later on, in a very personal talk with an adult Amsterdam (not yet knowing his true identity) Bill reveals that this is actually a scar of shame.  He cut out his own eye after he failed to look into Priest's at a moment in which his life was in the Irish leader's hands.  Instead of killing Bill, Vallon left him to live in cowardly shame.  After replacing the eye with a glass one, Bill is able to rise up and destroy Vallon in battle, erasing the shame that goes with his disfigurement.  The etching covers up his permanent reminder of a dishonorable past with a glorious devotion to his country, again rooting his patriotism in a realm of more myth than fact.  Later, when Amsterdam fails an assassination attempt on Bill, the Native leader declares, "He ain't earned a death at my hands"(Gangs of New York).  Sparing his life, Bill brands Amsterdam's cheek with a red-hot knife, leaving a similar disfigurement of shame.  This action allows for Bill's repressed past coming back on multiple levels.  No longer working in secrecy to avenge his father, Amsterdam revives the name of the Dead Rabbits—a symbolic threat to Bill's reign—along with hope for the oppressed people in Five Points.  By allowing Amsterdam to live, Bill makes the same mistake that Vallon did in the past.  Amsterdam is able to rise up and destroy Bill in battle, just as Bill was able to kill Priest.  Bill's conscious dismissal of the factual past becomes fatal, exemplifying the cliché-yet-true saying, "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it".

Following the victory over the Irish and Vallon, all in The Five Points, especially the politicians, recognize Bill's tribal dominance.  Both the True Blue Americans (a conservative group) and Tammany Hall (a Democratic political machine) court Bill for his influence over the votes of the district.  Although many Irish still secretly despise him, they would rather not vote than to challenge "The Butcher".  When Tammany Hall representative William "Boss" Tweed appeals to Bill to ease up on the newly arriving Irish, Bill ignores his plea.  When warned of turning away from the future of New York, Bill declares "Not my future" (ibid).  He appears as a figurehead at some political rallies, mainly to assure that more anti-immigrant votes will be cast.  Bill himself has no enthusiasm towards politics or the democratic system his father died for.  The most he can do to undermine it is attempt to elect politicians that best suit his agenda and will allow themselves to be swayed by his threats.  He uses his muscle in the district to force more votes for the candidates he endorses.  Although he does not consider the Chinese, as well as the other minorities he bullies into voting, as Americans, he has no complaints about them doing so if it is in his favor.  "Civilization is crumbling", he remarks to Amsterdam, wrapped in an American flag.  Bill, having no son, fears the end of a Native stronghold in The Five Points.  His desire for leadership based on lineage and bloodlines contradicts his patriotism more than any others.  Such a lineage follows the political structure of a monarchy identical to the one the colonists fought against in the American Revolution.  In actuality, Bill prefers the clean-cut, strength-dominated political workings of a tyrannical dictatorship. 

Both characters' downfalls are their contradictions.  Both claim to fight for a patriotic value and for the future of their respective people, yet they do not advocate the use or involvement of political systems that are developing around them and stay grounded in the past—factual or mythical—and fail to progress.   He, like Vallon, fails to effectively incorporate his past into his present, therefore destroying any hope for a future.

Amsterdam embodies the crucial synthesis of Vallon's and Bill's patriotic values into a single, progressive figure.  He is both a Native, and Irish, representing the interests of both America (his home country) and his Irish culture.  The events of his childhood—watching his father slain and being forced into a Protestant reform school— begin molding an identity of ambiguity.  After he is released from the school, he is a free American citizen, yet he travels back to Five Points, incomplete and in search of revenge. Here, upon reintroducing himself to Bill, he gives the fabricated name Amsterdam, derived from the city's previous name.  This assumed name fittingly reflects his role as the synthesizing force of the film.  It signifies both his knowledge of the past, while focusing on the future—he uses this alias allowing him to effectively stalk Bill in order to exact his revenge and move on.  Soon, Bill takes a liking to Amsterdam and takes him under his wing, serving as a stand-in for the father he lost so early in life.  It is from Bill that Amsterdam learns the methods by which the Five Points "works". As "The Butcher's" protégé, Amsterdam learns the method in which Bill kills, as he demonstrates on a pig carcass his effective stabbing technique—the same one used kill Priest.  Amsterdam examines his past and uses his father's dying words as a guideline.  He does not look away, yet he does not fix his sights.  He incorporates the ways of the past with the present system Bill shows him in order to productively move forward. 

As previously mentioned, the New York of Amsterdam's adulthood features a rapidly expanding political system.  Political machine Tammany Hall is wooing the Irish for their votes.  After Bill discovers Amsterdam's identity and brands him to live in shame, Tammany representative William Tweed, weary of dealing with Bill's violent attitude towards the Irish, locates Amsterdam for assistance with the large Irish vote.  Amsterdam, aware that Tweed is not the selfless humanitarian he promotes himself as, grudgingly accepts.  However, in order to receive his aide in consolidating the Irish vote, Amsterdam makes Tweed agree to back an Irish candidate (of Amsterdam's choosing) for Sheriff—Walter "Monk" McGinn.  Monk, as Amsterdam knows, does not swear loyalty to either the Irish or the Natives.  When he fought with Priest against Bill and the Natives in 1846, it was for financial gain—Priest offered him 10 (dollars, presumably) "per new notch", the notches marking each man Monk has killed with his large club (ibid).  After Bill has taken control of The Five Points, Monk simply has resided in his barbershop, usually drunk and sleeping. 

McGinn agrees to Amsterdam's nomination on the terms that he can say as he pleases.  Amsterdam assures him that he would want it no other way.  As shots of each politician (Monk's rival goes unnamed—credited as the "True Blue American Speaker") addressing the large crowds in Five Points follow one another, the usual, intolerant Native rhetoric clashes with the socially aware words of Monk.  Monk does not pit the Irish against the Natives, though he shares the same distaste for Bill and his men as Amsterdam.  Instead, he addresses the problems of The Five Points as a whole—native-born and immigrant citizens alike are included in his criticism of New York's rich and their neglected American duty to improve the impoverished districts.  As in 1846, Monk believes the issues should not revolve around faith or ethnicity, but class and economics; he is a civil rights leader and a capitalist at the same time, personifying the diversity-rich, present-day America.  When the day of the election arrives, Amsterdam employs his knowledge of Five Points learned from Bill as a means of preemptively leveling the unfair playing field that Bill has created.  Like Bill and the Natives, Amsterdam and company forcefully fetch citizens off the street to vote for Monk.  After they hand in their ballots, they are shaven and sent back to vote again.  When a representative for Tammany informs Tweed that Monk has won by many more votes than there are voters in the district, he demands that they keep voting.  "We don't need a victory, we need a Roman triumph", he declares, alluding to the role that the Vatican plays in the voting habits of the Irish (ibid).  The election displays Amsterdam's apex as the synthesizing force of the film's dichotomy.  He uses his father's mission and message and remembers his conflicted past.  Amsterdam progresses a step further towards a common good when he incorporates this knowledge with the corrupt teachings of Bill and applies it to a progressive vision of the future.  Instead of feeling apathetic about the impoverish position he is in, he becomes the first from either gang to attempt a legitimate move for the betterment of The Five Points.  He illustrates the conflicted feelings that the word patriotism arouses, therefore exemplifying a move in the direction of present American identity.

 After Monk's landslide victory, Bill confronts him at his shop.  The new sheriff rhetorically asks the town whether or not he and Bill should settle their differences with primitive violence or "the democratic way" (ibid).  As he turns to head inside, Bill tosses a cleaver into his back and kills him with his own club.   "Bill's action in this situation and throughout the story shows how his ancient ethos—tribal, martial, and hyper-spirited—is hostile to reason, the rule of law and thus the possibility of common citizenship in Five Points" (Mattie 217).  The election was the only common civil responsibility in which the citizens of the Five Points participated.  Amsterdam's attempt at a democratic process (although not executed in the ideal manner expressed in the Constitution) is literally cut down.  He must begin anew and once again draws from the past.  Mirroring his father's tribal nature, Amsterdam challenges Bill and the Natives to battle in Paradise Square, sans pistols.  The two will attempt to restore their ideal form of rule to the Five Points—Bill and Natives' tribal dominance against Amsterdam's choice of a progressive democracy.  The final battle allows for closure in the dichotomy and for as a new phase in the development of identity in New York and America.  From the preparation to the completion of the second major battle for the district, Amsterdam emulates both his father and Bill—the two biggest influences on his character—as the grueling and rather unspoken piece of New York history gives way to a present-day identity.

In the depths of the Old Brewery tenement building, Amsterdam cuts his cheek using the same razor as his father.  Remembering the battle in which his father was killed, he will enter his fight wearing an identical scar.  His cause, however, is different.  Amsterdam seeks only vengeance, for both his father and Monk—his democracy.  His tribal army is fighting to end the tyrannical reign of Bill once and for all.  The second major fight between the natives and Irish takes place amidst the most factually documented event of the film—the 1863 draft riots.  Chaos overruns New York as Bill and Amsterdam and their respective gangs prepare for combat.  Their confrontation is not met with lavish speeches as in 1846.  This fight is more personally between the two men that lead the gangs.  As the two sides line up before the conflict, Amsterdam simply raises his arm to in order to signal a beginning to the bloodshed.  Before a signal is given, both sides are dispersed and shrouded in smoke from artillery fire from the ironclad ship at the harbor, intending to quell the rioters.  The primitive warriors are scattered by modern technology; the sudden lack of vision among the frame symbolizes the near erasure of these gangs from American history in relation to the context in which their reign was prominent.  Amsterdam and Bill attempt to fight within the ominous smoke clouds—Bill's notion of honorable combat reduced to a series of sneak attacks—until the two are struck down by another artillery shell's impact.  As the dust settles, both leaders rise to their knees, nearly unrecognizable.  Shrapnel has struck Bill in his stomach and he is mortally wounded.  "At least I die a true American", is Bill's final remark as he glares at his opponent (Gangs of New York).  Amsterdam deals the final blow—the way Bill taught him to; the way he stabbed Priest—and "The Butcher" collapses into the fetal position, holding Amsterdam's hand.  The shot depicts the surrogate father collapsing, reverting to childhood, while his adopted son rises to adulthood.  Bill's attempt to revert history to a point in which his power was undeniable and uncontested becomes his own undoing.  With his final strike on the leader of the Natives, Amsterdam emulates and destroys him, making Bill's history and dated savagery his destruction.

With a series of scars, both self-inflicted and those caused by others, the film visually confronts the audience with the notion of conflict as a means of progress.  This progress is shaped by the contradicting ideas of patriotism that each character exudes.  Priest yearns for a life of freedom and hope like those championed in the Constitution, but his overwhelming pride for his home country and loyalty to a clan system, combined with the need for immediate action to escape mistreatment, hinders him from participation in any democratic process.  Bill's proclaimed love for his country is contradicted by his civil irresponsibility and ignorance of America's factual past.  Amsterdam embodies the positive sides of both men's patriotic values in a resolved set of his own—he has vast cultural knowledge and a love for America.  Unlike his father and Bill, Amsterdam does not contradict his patriotism with his actions.  Instead, he incorporates the aforementioned blend of values into his duties as an American citizen in order to legitimately strive toward a common good.  Neither the immigrants nor the Natives establish (in the case of the Natives, reestablish) a cultural hegemony in the district.  The forces of order (i.e. the military) overpower both tribal sects, though never fully erasing their impact, beginning a new era of leadership, as well as citizenship in Five Points.

To supplement the visual themes of the film, the soundtrack is once again employed.  The large range of music, from archive recordings to contemporary rock, utilizes virtually every source available.  Since the picture is not about a traditional New York, Scorsese chooses not to use traditional orchestral scoring.  The soundtrack itself, as its producer, Hal Willner describes it is "a combination of the various participants musical life's journey in a story which it naturally fits into" (Willner).  The vastly differing sounds from piece to piece (eighty-six total throughout the film) gives audiences the aural effect of the many cultures shaping American identity to enhance the message of the narrative.  Two separate pieces often meet in stark contrast, only to smoothly transition into a third—their audible conflict progressing alongside the visual ones.  Early in the picture, the song "Signal to Noise" (Peter Gabriel), presents the progression through conflict motif aurally compliant with one of the film's most grueling scenes, the battle of 1846.

After the audience is treated to the source scoring of Howard Shore and the ethnically primitive sound of "Shimmy She Wobble", the film offers its first moment of silence as the two gangs enter Paradise Square.  After Priest and Bill voice their causes, the battle commences and the music resumes with the Peter Gabriel track.  The opening measures of the piece sound to be mere source scoring, adding in some low hand drum and early woodwind instruments to adapt it to the characters' cultural background.  However, as the confusion of the battle sets in, a piercing electric guitar distracts from the soft strings and orchestral music and "switches to some sort of faux Celtic electro-rock, with processed beats and pipes swirling in lachrymose Irishry as the cleavers and brickbats fly" (Parker 43).  Here the drum machines and sustained, distorted guitar notes create the initial feeling of an urban wasteland.  Cut to footage that is sped up, slowed down and edited similar to one of Eisenstein's montages, the song's swirling feeling adds to the chaotic feeling of the bloody battle.  The low, resonating and processed bass drum thumps heavily, adding a weighty feel to the warriors as they slowly trudge through the reddened snow and mud.

"Signal to Noise", like "Shimmy She Wobble", comes to act as a comforting element (believe or not) amidst the savage anarchy of the screen.  Shortly after the guitar begins, the beat stabilizes into a loop consisting mainly of processed drums.  The conflict of scoring styles and timbres combine into a third, resolved rhythm.  The drumbeat begins to restore order over the softened sounds of battle and agony.  These processed drums, with their repetitive snare keeping rhythm and a low, pounding bass drum, combines with the guitar, now employing a phase-shifter studio effect, to emulate modern day urban and hip-hop music.  The music alludes to the city to come (New York being a large urban music center) as a result of conflicts such as the one pictured on screen.  It stabilizes the scene by adding an element familiar to contemporary American audiences, noting the eventual outcome of the defamiliarized and non-traditional past presented in Gangs of New York.   

In the final scenes of Gangs of New York, Bill's body is buried next to Priest's near the Manhattan Bridge.  They, like the rioters and gang members buried all over the city, become a permanent part of New York.  A succession of shots illustrates the cities gradual rise to world-renown metropolis—the lingering smoke columns dissolving into tall buildings—including a final shot of the World Trade Center towers defiantly jutting into the horizon.  Accompanying this shot, leading into the end credits, is the song "The Hands that Built America" by the (conveniently Irish) rock group, U2.  The song, recorded for the film, aides the imagery in bringing the film quickly into the present, and explicitly detailing the connection contemporary society has with the past Gangs of New York depicts.  This New York is the collective product of an assortment of various conflicts and resolutions. 
Scorsese's film depicts New York's most wicked period, when crime and fear ruled the city, in order to serve as a reminder of the colorfully turbulent past that shaped its brilliant present.  Scorsese, son to Sicilian immigrants, no doubt faced obstacles that Puzo did as an Italian coming of age in an Irish area of New York, and used his experience to enhance the message that America is a place for everybody.  While shooting, the Trade Center came down, erasing a large icon in the city's, the country's, as well as the director's history.  Upon the film's completion, censors pleaded with Scorsese to eliminate the final shot out of respect for those that perished.  He left them in for that reason exactly.  Not only were the towers a symbol recognized globally as American, but also the thousands that died composed a rich diversity that characterizes American identity.  As the film argues throughout, the blood must always stay on the blade.  Gangs of New York demonstrates the "Phoenix theory of history: the future must rise from the ashes of the past, and thus the heroes of progress are arsonists" (Blake 30).  The progress of New York in some ways as a result of the gangs of the nineteenth century did lead to the erecting of the World Trade Center and an identity for both the city and the country.

Gangs of New York provides viewers with a myth to combat a myth.  The film's portrayal of New York's past and the shaping of America through violence does not try to instill in its audience a negative viewpoint on the city or the country in terms of its violent history.  Instead, it utilizes the aspect of this ultra-violence in order to leave a lasting, subconscious impression on them.  Scorsese realizes the great effect that film can have on the nuances of the human mind and worldview and uses its power to help offer a counterpart to the altruistic myths that dominate American history, not to discourage admiration of it, but to prevent the factual past from dangerously falling into obscurity due to the preference for a more pleasing mythology.  Rituals and scars load the film as symbolic tools of remembrance.  These elements represent conflicts in the past that are rooted in both glory and pain, neither of which can be forgotten without a human effort to do so.  The film is not a criticism of, but a concerned and sincere warning to America—ignoring the pains of the past gradually misshapes conceptions and falsifies the identities of the present.

 

Works Cited

Blake, Richard A.  "Gangs of New York".  America 188 (2003): 30.

Borges, Jorge Louis.  Foreword.  The Gangs of New York.  By Herbert Asbury.  1928.  New York:  Thunder's Mouth Press, 1998. 11.

Gangs of New York. Dir. Martin Scorsese.  Miramax, 2002.

Mattie, Sean.  "Blood, Justice, and American Citizenship".  Perspectives on Political Science 32 (2003): 217.

Panelli, Annalisa.  "Gangs of New York".  Journal of Religion and Film 6 (2003):  Online Film Review.Parker, James.  "Scorsese's Low Score".  The American Prospect 14 (2003):  43.

Puzo, Mario.  "Choosing a Dream". The Immigrant Experience. 1972. New York:  Penguin Books, 1992. 44.Willner, Hal.  Gangs of New York Original Motion Picture Soundtrack.  Interscope Records, 2002.