December 27, 2002 | 1:09 AM

If Baz Luhrman and Sam Peckinpah collaborated on a lost Charles Dickens novel, it might look a little something like Gangs of New York.

Gangs is Gothic farce masquerading as historical epic. Beautifully photographed images of slow motion bullets traveling through flesh, erupting into volcanoes of blood and spewing red rivers in the streets make up about 3/4 of the action. It's meant to be off putting and uncomfortable (Scorcese pulled it off like a pro in Goodfellas) Instead I found it sort of silly. There was not once ounce of realism in the blood ballet, and isn't that the real purpose of a historical epic, to serve us up our past in some recognizable manner thus forcing us to confront rather than dismiss it? Scorcese lunges for the throat of his audience but gives us all hickeys instead of really sinking his teeth into our flesh. That would have been better and more sharply executed with less vehemence and more subtlety. A little restraint would have been appreciated, Marty.

You know, if I want to see something artfully gruesome, I'll put on Peckinpah's The Getaway. Good ole' Sam had the common sense to know that meaty subjects like the betrayal of the promise of democracy don't lend themselves so well to darkly comedic macabre. That's why he chose a throw-away piece of trash to explore such stylized violence.

The violence in Gangs is paradoxically gleeful and heavy handed, like a clown with a murderous vendetta. Scorcese pulls out every stop and spectacle he can think of to divert your attention from the fact that really there isn't much going on. What exactly is the point of this movie? I don't insists on a moral, but I deeply resent being told I'm getting one but the pretty wrapping papered box is empty inside. If I invite you to dinner, you don�t have to bring me any wine, but please don�t show up with an empty bottle for the sake of appearing generous.

The script is pretty bogus for the most part. It reminds me of a vehicle Tom and Nicole would have chosen in their lovebird-good-publicity days. There just really isn't a whole lot of subtext and it's irritatingly self-congratulatory.

Acting wise, DiCaprio is fine if a little uncomfortable. I've always thought he was an excellent actor and appreciated his work long before he became a star. He was a revelation in This Boy's Life and mesmerizing in Marvin's Room and What's Eating Gilbert Grape. It's not exactly that he's miscast here because I can't think of anyone who necessarily would have been better. Only that he doesn't really have a lot to do besides move the plot along, and he doesn't get a chance to use his best strengths-- DiCaprio does vulnerability and charm far better than he does rage and vengeance, though he's not lousy at the latter two.

On the other hand, I would absolutely recommend seeing this movie if only for Daniel Day Lewis's performance as Bill The Butcher, which is probably the best acting to which I�ve been privy since renting Brando's old pictures. Playing a monster and making him equally repugnant and likeable is a tough call and Lewis more than pulls it off. He is a fucking revelation and I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

You know the thing is, all in all I didn�t dislike Gangs of New York. It wasn�t a bad film. It certainly was better than 90% of the trash Hollywood spews forth, and I respect Scorcese for taking risks and making bold moves. It�s just that I�m disappointed that considering his undeniable talent Gangs wasn�t better. And that Scorcese, who is not only one the finest directors still making movies but truly a fantastic film historian would have such a misguided take on the marriage of style and substance. I haven�t seen a false move like that from him before, and I hope he regains his footing with his next movie.