Sin is a Proud American Institution

Rating: 9/10 (27 December 2012)

Las Vegas is a mythical place, a yellow brick road destination that came into being on the backs and bucks of men on the fringes of society who weren't constricted by petty, hypocritical morality. Naturally, it's a town of broken losers, desperate dreamers, and cold remorseless opportunists. So the most definitive, most emblematic American city is a paradox, promising pleasure but thriving on pain. This is the grim landscape that Casino occupies and Martin Scorsese is our gracious tour guide, pointing out all the garish, notorious landmarks with near reverential diligence.
DeNiro is convincing as the Jewish numbers expert Casino manager, Sam "Ace" Rothstein, beholden to the mob and loyal to his would-be tough guy boyhood buddy, Nicky Santoro, played flawlessly by Joe Pesci, who shows up in town and complicates Ace's life. Ace has complicated things for himself, too, by hooking up with ex top dollar whore, Ginger McKenna, played by a raw and riveting Sharon Stone. Ginger's alcohol and drug soaked mind leads her into the arms of the wrong guy, the worst possible guy, setting the stage for an inevitable tragic showdown. No one escapes unpunished, but then again no one entered the game innocent.
It's a chilling image of a fiery hot world, burning white on the fumes of people's hope and fear, but it's a vision that's somehow sympathetic to the sad, twisted souls who choose to inhabit this godforsaken outpost. There's never an easy score, never an unearned jackpot. Every nickle and dime in Casino is hard fought, paid for with blood, sweat, and tears. It's often gruesome to witness the brutal depravity that passes for human behavior in Scorsese's films but it's never depressing. There's a sinister satisfaction to be found in all his dangerous, dark shenanigans, just like when you finally accept that you do in fact enjoy seeing other people get hurt. Or get killed.
It's not as groundbreaking or as awe inspiring as Raging Bull, or as epic as Goodfellas, or as ambitious as either. It's a somewhat more nuanced, mature version of that patented Scorsese style, this time not so much rejoicing in the opportunity to depict unconscionable violence, but certainly not ashamed of it's lurid excesses. If you choose to see all this as an expression of the curious - maybe demented - American psyche, then Scorsese has done his job. I think he's done it damn well.