“Listen, if you didn't know you were bein' scammed, you're too fuckin' dumb to keep this job. If you did know, you were in on it. Either way, you're out.”
Casino’s always described as Scorsese’s Goodfellas Pt. II. The similarities between the two films are undeniable. Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci play very similar characters, almost identical. Including Casino in the company of many superior crime films makes Casino unremarkable, and quite frankly, uninspired. But Casino, to me, is a classic because it’s not a film about gangsters. It’s a film about our modern day outlaws. It’s a Western. Set in Nevada and the sunny dessert climate, it includes the blonde damsel in distress, the outlaw that takes a liking to her, and the webs that are naturally weaved because of these central relationships. Like all Westerns, it’s a relatively simple love story.
Scorsese explains in multiple interviews that his intent, while making Goodfellas, was to make a film with an extremely swift pace. In reaction to the quickening pace of cinema Scorsese reacted with a challenge. As he describes it, “You want fast? I’ll give you fast.” But Casino is much faster in it’s pace. Much more raw, and even though it’s ending is more out of control, the main character himself has much more structure in his life. His life is ruled by mathematical probability, unlike Henry Hill in Goodfellas who pretty much becomes a gangster simply because all his life he wanted to. In Casino there’s method to madness.
Of all of Scorsese’s great films, Casino is probably his least ambitious. Scorsese attempts to make no profound statements on the human condition with this film. All of the points made have already been made in his other films. In Mean Streets he explores Catholic guilt. In The Aviator there is the tragedy of Prometheus. In Howard Hughes’ quest for the ultimate flight he flies too close. He keeps on pushing and while attempting to be Prometheus and bring us fire, instead he flies so high that his fall can only be that much more tragic. He becomes Icarus.
Well I guess all of Scorsese’s crime films are stories of Icarus. They always push until the bricks come piling down and there isn’t anything else to push. It’s a constant game of gradual suicide. The Departed tries to stay away from this thread as much as possible but even Matt Damon’s character follows it. There’s Keitel in Mean Streets, Liotta in Goodfellas, and now De Niro in Casino. (It’s there in Sorsese’s other films like Raging Bull and Taxi Driver but those characters never achieve what they were always chasing. In The King of Comedy, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and—one film I pretty much despise—After Hours everybody’s pretty much always miserable. In Scorsese’s crime stories everyone gets what the want before squandering it away.)
Even though Rosenstein (De Niro) lives on probability it’s ultimately his riskiest gamble—his relationship with Stone—that sets off a chaotic chain of events that brings it all down. A hole forms at the bottom of the pit and everyone sinks in with it. The ending where holes are dug in the sand makes this metaphor even more poetic.
The performances in Casino are some of the best you’ll see in any Scorsese film. Robert De Niro, as always, leads the film with a commanding presence and his narrations help give you an accurate glimpse into the daily workings of a casino. Pesci is his usual psychopathic self and Stone is terrific. You wouldn’t know she was such a good actress coming into Casino but you’ll know going out.
Scorsese is our modern day Shakespeare when it comes to tragedy. Hundreds of years from now they could be reading and reciting him on stage and in 8th Grade literature classes everywhere. Even The Last Temptation of Christ is about suffering for God’s sake, not love and hope like you’d think it would be. He’s truly a master at what he does, and while Casino isn’t his best, it’s pretty damn fucking good.
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