Hi, I’m Martin Scorsese. I’m here to show you all the blueprints. As you can see, I am surrounded by maps and storyboards, even a Buddhist urn, but I don’t want to be a product of my amusement park—I want my amusement park to be a product of me.
When we expanded Scorsese Land into an entire World, I didn’t want a difference between fantasy and reality. I wanted everything to be in New York and Little Italy to be everywhere and for every guest to believe a plaster of Paris bagel and cream cheese paperweight could be theirs one day.
Sure, admission used to cost a nickel. But such grandiose visions aren’t cheap. We did away with some of the old rides. Mr. Bickle’s Wild Taxicab just seemed a bit too on target for today’s America.
That doesn’t mean we’re walking anything back. We figure if people are tired of mayhem, then maybe sending them on a simulated murder spree isn’t the optimal coping mechanism. But what if every guest had a chance to see what an EMT sees? Here’s a rendering of an ambulance arriving at a crime scene. You talkin’ to me? In any event, we’re Bringing Out the Dead on our very own Rockin’ Roller Coaster.
The gateway to Scorsese World is the famed Five Points, and our hardworking Martineers have recreated all those slaughterhouse odors of blood and excrement. You know, the real New York from when we were kids.
If you arrive early, you can participate in a neighborhood melee. Join a street gang or fly solo. If you’re hungry afterward, head to Bill the Butcher’s for brunch. If you swing by the docks, feel free to heckle any late arriving guests. We’ve placed Easer eggs all over the park.
On our Cape Fear Murder Cruise, the night air buzzes with cicadas and orchestral strings. Rain pelts the windows. Squalls rock the houseboat. Is that an animatronic Robert De Niro or a sadistic serial killer? We’ve taken great pains to keep the family in doubt. The exit is by the Country Bear Last Waltz Thunder Revue. Nothing bonds people together like the great American jukebox and a Pittsburgh coke connection.
Who would put a prison for the criminally insane inside a family friendly theme park? I guess I would. In any event, there’s lots to do on Shutter Island. You can search for missing prisoners. Or you can book lodgings by the lake and take the kids for a swim.
Can’t wait for the ferry to arrive? Pilot one of our Hell’s Angels Dogfighters across the bay. All you have to do is design and build a plane. As you can imagine, the insurance costs for this experience are astronomical, and we may have mortgaged an idea the size of Tibet to pay for it.
If you head for the lighthouse, go down the stairs, not up. We sank a rat maze underneath the harbor. Just follow the Departed’s footsteps. One exit deposits you outside an abandoned building where a body is dropped off the roof every hour. And another exit places you inside an Old New York Opera House.
Not sure your kids measure up? Feeling like you need some time away from your directionless teenager? Drop any kid under 18 at the Investor Center where they will be trained as an up-and-coming stockbroker. Quaalude wavers are available for all ages. Those who can’t sleep can ride a yacht into the eye of a hurricane. We have a plethora of archetypal water rides inside the park.
As this drawing suggests, we’re also converting all our Howard Hughes Screening Rooms into pumping stations for nursing mothers—sort of like a manger on every block. Then Liza Minnelli your way through the Great American Songbook.
But don’t worry we’re still holding onto some of the most popular rides from Scorsese Land. Just through the Bamboo Lounge you’ll find Joe Pesci’s Funny Roulette Table where you can spin and spin as if trapped inside a teacup. And our Mean Streets Shooting Gallery is still open. Earn points as soon as you spot an animatronic Robert De Niro on a rooftop, in a jazz bar, in a yellow car, graveside.
A great man once said every man is a genius at least once in his life. Host Rupert Pupkin interviews everyone from Jake LaMotta to Jimmy the Gent and Ace Rothstein about their humble beginnings, greatest ambitions, and notorious acts. From punchline to knockout, you’ll find all the De Niros depicted in immaculate cardboard or papier-mâché.
You’ve heard the rumors and you’re wanting to ask. The answer is yes. When faced with refurbishing the Hall of De Niros for the 46th time, we thought about a Hanger of DiCaprios. Then real genius struck—why not build an attraction centered on experiencing F.B.I. hearings firsthand?
Our Martineers were hard at work designing a rotating theater where guests could witness the Bureau’s entire history of public proceedings. But then we hit a snag. We don’t hold the land rights for what’s between Mel’s Diner and the San Marino Italian Grocery. We had already torn down the piano bar and reassigned Alice to the Wolf Pups of Wall Street Investor Program. But the current owners are hesitant to sell. Yada yada. Something about oil and murder under a Flower Moon.
Isn’t that just the way of things? Maybe we’ll just have to settle for recording the guests. At Scorsese Land, which was just Scorsese World in miniature, we used to blast voiceovers through the park’s loudspeakers. You could come for a day or stay for a week and not know whose experience you were having. Well, we still plan on doing that.
It’s only a shot away.
In any event, we hung COMING ATTRACTION signs on some crosses and fake oil rigs. We found a great place to bury Hoffa. It all looks great under the Crown of Thorns Fireworks Display. Just don’t say it looks like Disney Land.