In Editors Ian Christie and David Thompson’s introduction to Scorsese on Scorsese (Faber and Faber, London, 2003) they state that, “With Gangs of New York, Martin Scorsese has fulfilled the second long-delayed promise of his career, after The Last Temptation of Christ.” (pg. XIX) They go on to explain that Scorsese read Herbert Asbury’s collection of true crime writing–on which Gangs was based –in 1972. He announced the project some years later but, all told, the project was germinating for around thirty years. That’s a long time to have a plan. Scorsese on Scorsese is a collection of Scorsese’s lectures and interviews where the director speaks candidly, tangential references to unmade films standing, about his struggles to make the movies he wants, and to get people to like them. (George Lucas, a friend of Scorsese’s, makes several appearances in these anecdotes, mainly as a shrewd businessman who seems to have his finger on what Americans want, and how to make more money satiating them).

What’s fundamentally interesting about Scorsese, and what links these interviews and comments together nicely, is his artistic intent- sometimes ambitious and long-reaching to the point of hubris, sometimes almost quaint and pet-project-like. Scorsese sometimes seems, as Copolla once said of his own films, a hobbyist- and this is a compelling and attractive place for a career filmmaker to be. Scorsese’s ambitions trails him throughout the book: Christie and Thompson make sure we understand this from the get-go: “Most film-makers’ careers include many more projects than can ever be realized, but these are often airbrushed from the record.” (pg. XXV). But Scorsese’s plans—even those lost to history—seem to inform who he is as a filmmaker. When these plans “pan out” we are gifted to see just how much thought and craftsmanship emerges, as in Gangs of New York.
On a macro level the director speaks broadly of projects and deals floating around him as he hunkers down to shoot films like Raging Bull and Kundun. On a smaller, more craft-oriented level, Scorsese reveals his intent, his plans, his artistry, in his films. And, as stated above: these are some big, long waiting ideas hanging in the rafters while he eats. As scholars we come across a scene, or a sentence, and are asked: Did the artist/writer mean to do this? The scripted answer is always “yes.” And yet we don’t really know what the artist/writer/director was actually thinking when they painted/wrote/directed that scene. Well Scorsese on Scorsese serves as a vivid account of the pathos of an artist. And it is quite illuminating to see how Scorsese’s plans play out in his films.


