Gangs of New York Page #20

Synopsis: Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a young Irish immigrant released from prison. He returns to the Five Points seeking revenge against his father's killer, William Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis), a powerful anti-immigrant gang leader. He knows that revenge can only be attained by infiltrating Cutting's inner circle. Amsterdam's journey becomes a fight for personal survival and to find a place for the Irish people in 1860's New York.
Genre: Crime, Drama
Production: Miramax Films
  Nominated for 10 Oscars. Another 50 wins & 124 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.5
Metacritic:
72
Rotten Tomatoes:
74%
R
Year:
2002
167 min
$77,605,296
Website
947 Views


As the crowd falls back, Bill spots Amsterdam, Johnny and some of the

other Dead Rabbits, watching his every mave. He STOPS.

HOLDS OUT the bloody war club in front of him... straight in front of

him... POINTING IT right at Amsterdam.

BILL THE BUTCHER

I promise you, Amsterdam. I promise you.

Then he grins, turns away and walks through the crowd: prince of all he

surveys.

CUT TO:

74 INT. RESTAURANT/PARK ROW

Boss Tweed reigns in the banquet room of a vast, gaslit restaurant, at a

long table overburdened with food. Seated along both sides of the table is

an array of the city's POWER BROKERS, with whom Tweed and his Tammany

MINIONS mix easily. Their attitude toward the Power Brokers is a mixture

of ribald fawning and fine condescension; the Power Brokers, in turn,

enjoy the food, and the MUSIC from a small BAND, and the DANCING GIRLS who

flirt and entertain them, while exuding the unmistakable impression of

amateur anthropologists exploring a decaying civilization.

Tweed is courting and joking with a bewhiskered HORACE GREELEY, editor of

the influential Tribune.

GREELEY:

I may enjoy the bounty of your table and the pleasures of your company,

Mr. Tweed ...

BOSS TWEED:

And the pleasures of the company provided you, Mr. Greeley.

GREELEY:

...without the Tribune endorsing your politics.

BOSS TWEED:

I suppose you can at that. Take with one hand, flay with the other.

Virtuels on your conscience, Horace, but Tammany's in your heart.

Killoran materializes at Tweed's side and whispers something quickly,

discreetly in his ear. Tweed EXCUSES himself, rises quickly and WALKS

across the restaurant floor...

... past the Band and the Dancing Giris ...

... to the swinging doors of the kitchen. As he pushes open the SWINGING

DOOR, his face has lost its humor.

CUT TO:

75 INT. KITCHEN/RESTAURANT/PARK ROW

A madhouse of activity. WAITERS in black suits, vests and serving outfits

STREAM by carrying huge TRAYS of food while the KITCHEN STAFF works

double-time to keep up with the unceasing volume.

As Boss Tweed walks in, Bill the Butcher PLUCKS a piece of roasted poultry

off a tray as it's carried out the door.

BILL THE BUTCHER

I'm not good enough for your table, so I eat where I can. (takes a big

bite)

It's good, what is it?

BOSS TWEED:

Pheasant.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Is that like pigeon? I killed a pigeon once but it didn't taste nothing

like this.

BOSS TWEED:

You killed a bull this morning. I told you to make an Arrangement with

him, and you come back with his blood on your hands.

BILL THE BUTCHER

(chewing his food)

He insulted me. He aggravated me. I couldn't stand for that, for no one.

BOSS TWEED:

You stand for anything if I tell you.

BILL THE BUTCHER

You think I should be afraid of you. You act like lightning strikes when

you talk.

As they talk, and the tension builds between them, the two men are

constantly BUFFETED by the swinging doors and the unending stream of

WAITERS.

BILL THE BUTCHER

I never was afraid of you, so don't think I was or act like I was, you

ain't earned it.

BOSS TWEED:

What did you earn us, killing Monk?

BILL THE BUTCHER

Where'd you earn the right to ask that question? You raised some dust in

the streets a while back, but no more. You got power but you ain't got

muscle and you ain't got a notion what it means to be a warrior.

BOSS TWEED:

I see it lost you a lot of God's sense, along with that eye.

BILL THE BUTCHER

You don't know nothing about that! It was my doing! It says in The Book,

"If thy eye offend thee, pluck it out." I followed that law with my own

knife and hand. The first I ever fought Priest Vallon, he bested me. And

when he came to bring me to death, I looked away and he watched me and he

let me go. The shame was worse than the killing. I would have cut out both

eyes if I could still have fought, but cutting just the one gave me heart.

When I killed Priest Vallon, that restored me. Now I sent Monk Eastman

over I got glory. I got all there is, and small thanks to you, squire.

BOSS TWEED:

(measured, conciliatory) You need two eyes to see the depth, Bill. That's

how we help each other. If it wasn't for me would be happy enough to

plunder the Points and put the fear into people who don't know nothing

else. But Bill, I'm only saying... I'm counselinm... look in the distance.

You want to sit at my table, fine. But you must always remember who the

host is. It's not a matter of courage welre talking. It's manners.

Bill grabs another piece of food from a tray.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Howls these manners?

BOSS TWEED:

Fine, if you're hungry.

BILL THE BUTCHER

I'm always hungry.

BOSS TWEED:

I've always told you, Bill. There's plenty for all, and more for us

together than separate. We'll dine together sometime.

Bill the Butcher nods, appeased, and leaves, swaggering his way through

the kitchen chaos, making everyone get out of his way. Boss Tweed watches

him go, his expression changing from bemused appeasement to molten rage.

CUT TO:

76 INT. RESTAURANT/PARK ROW

Later. Everyone's gone except some WAITERS, cleaning up, and Boss Tweed

and Daniel Killoran, who sit at the end of the banquet table. Leftover

plates of food have been massed at Tweedls place and, as he talks, he

PICKS from them.

BOSS TWEED:

Let me put this to you, Daniel. Now that the Butcher has killed the single

most prominent figure in the Five Points--a man of myth and moment--who is

there to take his place?

(as Killoran starts to answer)

Of course. Then what do we do about the Butcher? He's too useful to be

killed, but he must be checked.

KILLARAN:

It could be a police matter.

BOSS TWEED:

Impossible! Any cops who might have the mettle to go against the Butcher

have blood ties to the gangs. They can't be trusted. And any cops that can

be trusted are too craven to be any use. If Bill's to be checked, it must

come from within the Points, not without.

KILLORAN:

The Dead Rabbits did a proud job for elections. That Amsterdam boy has

sand.

BOSS TWEED:

That so? The last time I saw him he was under the Butcher's knife looking

like a fine filet. Who else is there?

KILLORAN:

Well, the Rough and Tumble Boys over to Slaughterhouse Point. There's

Country McCleesterls bunch, too, and the Plug Uglies, but there's none

that have the promise of the Dead Rabbits, or the stake, neither.

BOSS TWEED:

What would that be?

KILLORAN:

The boy Amsterdam has a blood feud with the Butcher. He's sworn revenge

for the death of his father, and he's got the heart to carry it forward.

He'll have the skill and power soon enough.

BOSS TWEED:

Blood will make a man intrepid. Bring them along, then. Nurture the

Rabbits with neglect. Let them roam where they like.

KILLORAN:

And if they roam into some portion of our own revenues?

BOSS TWEED:

I'd tolerate a little trespassing if it was for a higher good and use.

They'll cross with the Natives soon enough and keep each other occupied.

KILLORAN:

Bill's got to be a lot more than occupied.

BOSS TWEED:

I'll hold Bill in check. If he becomes unwieldy ... well, damn it all,

Daniel, I might just have to oil up my old musket. What do you think of

that, eh?

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes

Jay Cocks

John C. "Jay" Cocks, Jr. (born January 12, 1944) is an American film critic and screenwriter. He is a graduate of Kenyon College. He was a critic for Time, Newsweek, and Rolling Stone, among other magazines, before shifting to screenplay writing.[1] He is married to actress Verna Bloom. more…

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