Summer is a time for living dangerously and nowhere is life more dangerous than in the movies about gambling, which is almost meta to begin with, since moviemaking is an intensely expensive venture (CASINO cost $50 million, enough to bui...
Summer is a time for living dangerously and nowhere is life more dangerous than in the movies about gambling, which is almost meta to begin with, since moviemaking is an intensely expensive venture (CASINO cost $50 million, enough to build a casino or two all its own) and no one knows for sure when they lay down big cash like that the film won't bomb and they'll lose it all, baby. It's a roll of the dice. And the mob's been associated one way or another with Hollywood since the beginning, from "this is the girl" in MULHOLLAND DR. to Al Capone's boys acting as technical advisors on the 1932 original SCARFACE. Whever there's big money and trade unions, the mob is there. So in films about gambling and the mob, Hollywood is in its element, rolling the dice on a film about rolling dice, and hoping that the lucky number rings out the profits. And thanks to the internet, gambling isn't just limited to Vegas, as casino sites like Jackpot City let you live the giddy rush of Vegas from your own home. Things are changing, and the criminal element can't keep up, which is why Scorsese's film looks back to the mobster version of Vegas' heyday, a tangent moment to the Rat Pack's OCEAN'S ELEVEN, which played up the glamour, drunkenness and class, but kept it much lighter. Scorsese knows that to be a big winner in gambling, to know how to keep your tells in check and your sense of the odds present without resorting to card counting or cheating, and most of all, you must be unlucky at love. Gamblers and dealers know you must be something pretty special to be drawing such good cards, and that your love must suck. Is this too great a sacrifice? And what in the end, is a priority? The smart gambler may in fact deliberately sabotage his chances at a happy love life, a bit like Robert De Niro's character does in CASINO, in order to preserve his luck at cards.I've already covered the delights of the here-and-gone beauty that is Robert Altman's 1974 underseen CALIFORNIA SPLIT (here). But what about 1995's overseen CASINO? A fine metaphor for the allure of gambling, and the danger and exaltation of living in a 'paradise' designed by shady guys in suits smoking big cigars, who think comped cocktails, air conditioning, prostitutes in tail feathers, and glitzy lights are the height of elegance. Vegas becomes their playground where anyone who dresses nice can play, can live the gangster arc of winning the world only to lose one's soul, climbing to the penthouse or being shot down to the gutter "right where the horses have been standin'" in the same game of the dice or couple of spins of the wheel, or hands at blackjack. Who wouldn't want that kind of rush? Why else do we watch films about gangsters, if not for the vicarious thrills, the vicarious paranoia, then the final dislodging from vicariousness--when the gangster dies the credits roll and we wake up scot free over credits, scurrying out into the light and back to our daily grinds.CASINO is fraught with problems, none more glaring than its compulsive need to ape the tropes of its predecessor, GOODFELLAS, from the punchy narration to the long tracking shots packed with period rock music and old Italians in gaudy suits. All of which is fine, but what about Joe Pesci caught in a no-win situation to do Joey again? (see one of my very first-ever posts on Acidemic, 'That Joey, he's a wild one). As Nicky Santoro, he drops a the ball by holding it so tight it deflates. It's not his fault of course. He's in a no-win situation of having to repeat his iconic performance from GOODFELLAS, and somehow top it for bloody madness. He looks older and stockier then he did in that film, from just four years earlier --the fame Joey brought him has left its visible scars, and when he throws massive tantrums he's not scary like he was in GOODFELLAS. He's still scary, but not 'I love this guy!' scary, just alarming, ineffectual, trying too hard.Sharon Stone, critics dutifully adoring her all the while, falls into the same ho