Where are the Five Points? Why are they so interesting?

The streets’ names have changed over the years according to Sante, but the fascination with this infamous neighborhood in Manhattan has remained the same. In LOW LIFE, Sante tells us that,

The Old Brewery [which is a major set in Scorsese's Gangs of New York, if you remember, where Leonardo Dicaprio's character Amsterdam recovers from near-death, and before which many a battle was fought] was the magnetic center of the area called the Five Points, the intersection of Orange (now Baxter), Cross (now Park), and Anthony (also known as Cat Hollow, no Worth) Streets, the immediate area also bounded by Ryndert (now Mulberry) and Little Water (also known as Dandy Lane and since built over).    pg. 28

In his review of the Gangs of New York film Gregory J. Christiano expands on the area: “This was the Sixth Ward and became notorious for its crime-ridden streets, colorful gangs, prostitutes, petty thieves and gamblers.  There was all manner of vice, debauchery and corruption.  Even the police and fire brigades were part of this lawless environment not to mention the politicians.  (para.1)”

The Sixth Ward

I’m borrowing the above images from Mr. Christiano’s excellent essay on Urbanography called “The Five Points,” in which he comments on the Sixth Ward/Five Points area, then goes on to show us some fabulous news articles from the time (you can read it here). He begins his essay by explaining that

The name Five Points evokes images of poverty, rampant crime, decadence and despair. That’s true. The Five Points was a lurid geographical cancer filled with dilapidated and unlivable tenement houses, gang extortion, corrupt politicians, houses of ill-repute and drunkenness and gambling.  This was a place where all manner of crime flourished, the residents terrorized and squalor prevailed.      para. 1

On thing that Scorsese does in Gangs of New York is to depict the myriad tales of the New York low life. His city is filled brimful with tiny micro-stories, each played out on the streets, sometimes taking place a block off in the background of the main action. We feel the woeful living of these people as we watch them limping about, or staring out at us from their windows. Why is Scorsese fascinated with it? Why did Sante write about it?

This is open to discussion. I, for one, think it fascinating to see such a different America, yet so much like our own. I find it easy to relate to the goings on of this time period, as if it were happening only yesterday, and yet I’m removed from it enough to look at it from a critical perspective. And this goes especially for things related to New York, a city that may have changed vastly in some ways, but has remained the same in so many others.

As students, studying a place like the Five Points can show us numerous things- but I’ll start by quoting Ms. Vargas, who quoted Jacob Riis when she wrote: “The slum is the measure of civilization.” And perhaps we measure ourselves when we experience the narratives of those who lived in the Five Points. This is all just the start of such a discussion, of course. The question, again: Why do we find the Five Points so fascinating?

Daniel Day-Lewis (D-Day) and Scorsese’s Gangs

D-Day has won his Oscar for his role as Daniel Plainview in There Will Be Blood, and I think none of us can argue with the sometimes erroneous desicions of the Academy. In our class, watching Scorsese’s Gangs of New York comes with it two distinct pleasures. The first being a glimpse into more of D-Day’s acting chops. The second pleasure of viewing would have to be the new knowledge I have of Old New York, the time period in which this film is set (during the Civil War).

D-Day is reportedly a method actor- meaning that he seeks his role from within himself, and plays that role on–and off–camera. As such, he is notoriously difficult on set, often aloof and in-character at moments that could easily make his fellow actors a little uncomfortable. His role in Gangs is that of Bill the Butcher (a real character from Herbert Asbury’s non-fiction novel of the same name as the film named Bill Poole, here named Bill Cutting). He is a ruthless Nativist who can throw a knife with great accuracy, and he can be very scary in the role (much like his role as Plainview in Blood), and I can imagine that his fellow players didn’t much enjoy being around the guy while he sat in his chair awaiting his cue to film, if he did in fact continue acting like a killer even when he wasn’t supposed to.

D-Day’s performance in Gangs holds up: he is electric in the film, and although Dicaprio does well to stand and face Bill the Butcher as both a man seeking revenge and a young actor looking to define himself as a tough guy, D-Day steals the show. He was nominated for Best Actor by the Academy, and for good reason. When he utters his final line: “I die a true American,” it is quite magical, if a bit stolid. Though his performance in no way measures to that of the nuanced and sometimes rather broad, breathtaking performance of Plainview, D-Day remains a pleasure to watch.

But perhaps even more pleasing than D-Day is Scorsese and his photographer’s shots of this magnificent set, one that the director, I believe, said may be “the last great set” or something of that sort. Here are built-in views of Jacob Riis’ 19th century photography of the streets in Old New York. One can literally pick out Riis’ “Bandit’s Roost” as Scorsese moves his camera through the Five Points–the central neighborhood where the events of this drama played out–because Scorsese asked his award-winning set designer Dante Ferretti to include them. Ferretti himself speaks in the special features of the DVD about how Scorsese shipped him all of his research: and Ferretti went to work building an entire neighborhood from the ground up. When asked whether Scorsese enjoyed shooting outside of Rome (where the film’s giant set was), Scorsese often replied: “I’m not in Rome. I’m in New York.” DiCaprio concurs in his interviews. As a passive viewer I must say it is a transporting experience. Scorsese takes liberties with his treatment of the historical material–and he is taking liberties from research like Sante’s Low Life and Asbury’s Gangs of New York, two books that most agree were taking liberties as well–but this is part of his mythos, and he speaks in Scorsese on Scorsese about such things, finally, and how he is trying to weave an American Epic, not just a period piece.

When I saw Gangs of New York in the theaters so many years ago, I was not “blown away.” Rather, I felt the script was sensational and a bit overwrought. Cameron Diaz was no choice for a leading role of such proportions, and D-Day, I thought, was pushing his accent and his character out the window. But watching the film again is a rewarding experience. It is always delightful to have a new knowledge to inform a viewing experience, and walking into such a film equipped with a new appreciation of both the actors of the film and the history that the film is based on certainly ups the ante, so to speak, in pushing on the power of Gangs of New York.

Writing About the Image – Jacob Riis Assignment

We’ve spoken at some length now about writing about an image. I’ve compared our approach to a Reader Response (only of your response to a painting, photograph, or film, not a reading). I’ve also asked you to write about a Jacob Riis image to bring in for our next meeting. (Click the link to look at the “Fire escape” image).  Remember, I’ve asked that you quote from Sante’s Low Life in your writing. This elevates your response- you become less of a passive spectator and more of an active analyst, able to bring meaning, information, and thoughtful analysis to your response- which increases your scholarly authority, and makes you sound smarter (if they’re not one and the same).

A couple other (more detailed) things about writing on the image:

It can be empowering to write about an image. In the world we live in, the depth and power of an image can be taken for granted by those who do not study and learn an appreciation of it. As audience members- passive spectators enjoying a film purely for the experience, not seeking greater comprehension, we may say “We liked it” or “It was boring”. As SCHOLARS, however, we seek a greater understanding of the work, and bring our outside knowledge and understanding of things like context, theme, intention to bear on our writing. This empowers us, and allows us more confidence in studying the world.

Images are intimidating. As I’ve made mention (too) many times, I’m a writer myself, and remember vividly my first attempts at writing about images. Writing about images intimidated me. Why? Because I was not confident in my immediate emotional response to them- I thought that that instinctive, reader-response-style reaction was limited and uneducated. Because of the great, extensive histories of art that I was only vaguely familiar with, and because of the people around me who seemed so eerily capable of taking it all in and spitting it back out with ease (I went to an art school.) But that instinctive response that we first have, whether it be our excitement at the fantasy of a painting or disgust at the brutality of a journalistic image, is intended by the artist (whether the artists wishes for your specific response is left to be questioned, but the artist is certainly soliciting a response, or they wouldn’t have shown you the work- they would have burned it), and therefore that instinctive response is useful to how we write about the image.

Describing an Image is an Opportunity to show what you think of an image.

Let me show you: The following is a sculpture of an HP Lovecraft monster.

Dagon from SOTA TOYS

The grotesque, brutally shaped maw of the beast seems fashioned of exposed flesh tightly wrapped over black bone- as if the creature might be in constant pain, and the tentacles, shiny and reptilian on the tops and translucent and fatty on the bottom, curl and slither upon themselves to chilling effect.

The points of articulation are well-hidden beneath the expertly-rendered joints of this awesome model. The open-faced maw and beady eyes effectively capture Lovecraft’s uniquely weird take on monsters. The painting of the model- from the effect of translucency on the skin to the pink, bony, crab-like hands, reflects only the most expert in craftsmanship.

See? I took each description as an opportunity to evoke a similar response in my reader that I had- this is what writing is all about.

Start with the image. It may seem simple, but what do you see? What is in the foreground, the background? How does the artist compose the image, color the image, and why? Note that you start by taking in the image passively, as a spectator, then ask the scholarly question, Why? And this takes you into the realm of speculation, of research, and of writing, hopefully.