Tons of Atmosphere, Tons of Clichés

Rating: 7/10 (19 November 2010)

Martin Scorcese is a film legend. No matter what anyone might say about any of his films, his reputation is unimpeachable. Even his misfires have terrific scenes. "Casino" isn't a misfire - far from it - but only manages to be a good film weighed down by the ponderous style and overly didactic expressionism that is Scorcese at his worst.
"Goodfellas" was a Scorcese classic. This isn't "Goodfellas," but it sure feels like a mediocre extension of it. For what it is, "Casino" is enjoyable. Unfortunately, one of the hurdles that lesser Scorcese films face is that they bring to mind his better work. This is especially a problem when one of his films uses similar themes and even actors from his classics. Here, we have Joe Pesci from "Goodfellas" doing his angry mobster shtick again, and Deniro also reprising his standard wise-guy turn. Further, we have crude hoodlums increasingly turning on each other, having mundane personal problems that cross over into their "work," and exhibiting increasingly bizarre behavior after starting out seemingly in complete control. Sound familiar? Well, it probably does if you've seen "Goodfellas" or many other, better Scorcese films.
Robert Deniro, who at times is brilliant and at times seems to be suppressing a smirk in his "love" scenes, overall is fine as a middle-level mob boss who mistakenly begins to believe he is the top dog. So, we have the age-old theme of the inevitable mistake of taking your actual bosses for granted. Throw in Joe Pesci as his old friend who reaches the same conclusion about himself, and watch events unfold. Anyone who's seen mob films stretching at least back to "The Godfather Part II" on down the line has to see this train racing down the tracks. No real surprises, standard decline-and-fall stuff relieved by the usual Scorcese flourishes which, alas, went over much better elsewhere.
Sharon Stone is the empty center of this film, despite the fact that it supposedly is about Deniro's character. As the antagonist out to smash Deniro's controlled world, she is set up as the biggest thing in Vegas. She has to be for her character to work. Unfortunately, but none of that comes across, at least it didn't to me. Not enough time was spent on her character to show why at first she was so popular (which is odd, considering how long this film goes on), so her inevitable decline doesn't strike the emotional chord it should. Reviewers like to say she deserved the Academy Award, but I don't see it. She does get numerous histrionic moments, but then leaves huge gaps in her devolution. Her character lacks continuity. Stone gives two performances, one as a reluctant bride (why?), and then one as an increasingly unhappy wife (again, why?). Admittedly, she does a good job of acting, but it all seems forced and like, well, acting. Her character didn't grab me.
The single most annoying aspect of this film is a self-indulgent Scorcese trademark that reached its nadir here and in "Gangs of New York." You may find it charming, or helpful, or entertaining, but to me it is downright distracting and needless. That is a banal historical (this is "semi-fictional" in the worst way) explanation and constant narration by the Deniro and Pesci characters which continues right to the end. A little of that works, but it gets way out of hand. The characters repetitiously "explain" things that don't need to be explained. For example, the narrator will say, "And then she hit bottom and blew her money on drugs and pimps," and we see Stone stumbling down a hallway, doing her mighty best to show herself "hitting bottom." "And when they found her body...." and she immediately falls down in the hallway, right on cue. Nice acting, Sharon! The technique is patronizing. It is as if Scorcese is directing the film toward people who are complete blank slates, and know nothing about people, or history, or motivations. But, in reality, the audience is not stupid. It can be trusted to draw the appropriate conclusions, given a story rather than a monologue with accompanying moving pictures. I think Scorcese forgets himself sometimes. I think most viewers would find thinking things through themselves more enjoyable.
In other words, skip the quasi-documentary stuff, and this would be a far superior film.
Despite my major quibbles, I enjoyed the film because it does transport you to another time and place, Vegas in the early '70s, before, as Deniro the narrator so unnecessarily (but characteristically) explains, "It became Disneyland." The fashions (Deniro sporting a gold lamé suit is a riot) alone are worth the time. Just try not to compare this film to true classics.