CASINO - 'remastered edition' Blu-ray (Universal, De Fina/Cappa, 1995) Universal Home Video

There is a moment, or rather, a sound effect in Martin Scorsese's Casino (1995), the gut-wrenching dull smack of a metal bat connecting with Joe Pesci’s head, that has stayed with me ever since. Whatever the film-makers used to simulate dense human bone and soft flesh being pulverized to a bloody pulp certainly left its impression on this film-goer. The visual imprint of Pesci’s foul-mouthed Nicky Santoro and his unsuspecting brother, Dominick (Phillip Suriano) having their heads bashed in until each vaguely resembles a misshapen pumpkin the day after Halloween, their soft, bludgeoned and badly mangled bodies stripped down to their underwear, repeatedly clubbed and finally, buried still very much alive in the sandy earth in the middle of nowhere, is etched into my subconscious – probably, for all time. And this is just one of many startling and powerful indictments Scorsese lobs at Sin City’s sordid history.

With each passing year, Casino rings more ominous true about all of that dirty/sexy money flowing in and out of the Nevada desert, the fictional Tangiers, a microcosm of the Vegas lifestyle in totem.  To paraphrase one of the many catch-lines, ‘It’s all been designed for them to get your money’…or else. The glitz, glam and guts of Vegas in its mob-run prime is on full display in Casino, in hindsight, Scorsese's swan song to the Mafia crime flick he helped to popularize, and, so eloquently typified in Goodfellas only five years before. To be clear, Scorsese has infrequently returned to the mafia/crime milieu in more recent times with 2006’s The Departed, and 2019’s The Irishman. But neither of these rings with the ominous death knell to true brutality as is on display in Casino. There is a darkness at play here, a genuine sense that the light-strobing, plush shag-carpeted glitz and glam-bam of the strip is actually a lost highway to a more insidious purgatory for sale – the price exacted, in more blood than sweat-soaked spiral from crime into self-degradation from which only the truly corrupt can survive.  Casino reunites Scorsese with his ‘good luck’ charm, Robert DeNiro; also, Pesci, who are in top form and ably abetted by a stellar line-up of supporting players and ole Vegas hams.

The iconography of Scorsese's directorial outings with the mob is so searing, one tends to forget his career is founded on much more than just these uber-violent exposés into lust, greed, sex and money. Viewing Casino today, one finds it has lost none of its effectiveness to enthrall, shock and overpower the senses. Since it was always a ‘period’ picture, it has not dated with the passage of time. And Casino is extremely well-cast; the aforementioned Bobbie DeNiro as Mafia point man and ‘legitimate’ stakeholder in the Tangiers - Sam 'Ace' Rothstein, admired by the spaghetti and swagger sect for his chutzpah and slick management, but as frowned upon because he is a Jew. This is the eighth reunion between Scorsese and De Niro, both having built a collaborative reputation as each other’s ‘ying’ and ‘yang’ from Mean Streets (1973) and Taxi Driver (1976), all the way to Scorsese’s harrowing remake of Cape Fear (1991). For token estrogen, there is Sharon Stone’s magnificent con, Ginger McKenna – a slinky sexpot whose Achilles’ Heel happens to be she loves 3-time loser extraordinaire, Lester Diamond (James Woods). He gets her hooked, on cocaine and, in another life, may have been her oily pimp as well as her main squeeze. Scorsese pads out the triumvirate of DeNiro, Stone and Pesci with stellar turns by Don Rickles as hotel manager, Billy Sherbert, Alan King, as performer, Andy Stone, Kevin Pollak (unwitting Phillip Green), L.Q. Jones (good ole’ Texan, Pat Webb) and Dick Smothers (a befuddled senator). Nicholas Pileggi’s screenplay, from his own novel, is so outrageously rife in its over-the-top characterizations, so riveting in its central story – and all the dangling oddities to intrude upon, and eventually, take down Rothstein’s empire - one can easily forget Pileggi is cribbing from a truth, far stranger than fiction, kept hidden behind the super-sheen of showgirls and sham-glam.

But these titular tyrants and tarts are all based on real people. Ace was inspired by Frank ‘Lefty’ Rosenthal, executive of the famed, though now defunct, Stardust, Fremont, and Hacienda casinos.  In their time, these were obvious fronts for the Mob’s money laundering and betting rackets based out of Chicago from the early 1970's until the mid-80’s. Nicky and Ginger are mirrored on mob enforcer, Anthony ‘the ant’ Spilotro and socialite, Geri McGee. Just like his fictional counterpart, the real Tony Spilotro was assigned by the Chicago bosses to provide protection and oversee the casino’s ‘skim’.  Running afoul of their good graces, Tony’s overseers eventually arranged for his murder in 1986. As for McGee, a former showgirl (a word of many interpretations) with expensive tastes and habits - she wed Rosenthal, only to begin an extramarital affair with Spilotro. This would end as tragically for her alter ego, with McGee’s death from a presumed drug overdose, age 46. Although it was later rumored, McGee had been murdered – a likely assumption, given the mob unsuccessfully tried to whack her husband only weeks earlier – the official cause of death was registered as a suicide via a lethal concoction of cocaine, Valium, and whiskey. Oh, how the bad play fast, loose and terribly hard with their trivialized fame, wealth and success.

Nicholas Pileggi’s odyssey in writing Casino began unassumingly enough in 1980 with an article in The Las Vegas Sun documenting a domestic dispute between Rosenthal and McGee, using the couple’s stormy relationship as a springboard for his true crime story about mob infringement on the strip. At the time, Pileggi could not see a movie in it; that is, until his collaboration with Scorsese on Goodfellas. Scorsese was definitely interested and, already in the mode of creating mob masterworks. Pileggi, having thus unearthed his muse, began to lay the groundwork for another crime saga. The fictional Tangiers was modeled on the Stardust Resort and Casino – a time-honored piece of Vegas real estate with its own checkered past, presumably above board as owned by the Argent Corporation, using loans from the Teamsters Central States Pension Fund. Argent’s president, Allen Glick assured the casino’s reputation appeared squeaky clean…at least, on the surface. However, behind closed doors it was widely known the Stardust was controlled by a consortium of crime families in the Midwest. Over the next 6 years, Argent Corp. siphoned off between $7 and $15 million from the profits, using rigged scales; an operation later detected by the FBI. The axe having fallen hard, major assets were seized and major arrests made; the façade stripped away and the corporate enterprise rocked to its core from top to bottom.  Scorsese immediately saw the potential in telling – or rather ‘re-shaping’ this shocking tale for the big screen. Pileggi had hoped to publish his book first. But Scorsese encouraged him to reconsider this process in reverse: movie first/book to follow.

Heavily invested in 5 months of rewrites, Pileggi’s efforts cast a thin veil over the truth, with names changed ‘to protect the innocent’… more likely, to avoid engaging in defamation of character lawsuits. While the principle ‘lover’s triangle between Rosenthal (a.k.a. Rothstein), McGee (a.k.a. McKenna) and Spilotro (a.k.a. Santora) remained true to the facts, other characters evolved into an amalgam of many real-life counterparts, reassembled to provide continuity and dramatic impetus to the central story. Also, likely meant to appease, the Chicago mob’s influence was shifted to Kansas City, forcing Scorsese to change his wording from ‘based on…’ to ‘adapted from’ a true story; necessary semantics to get the job done. Rothstein’s influence would be confined exclusively to the Tangiers. The real Rosenthal managed several prominent Vegas casinos simultaneously. As shooting at the Stardust would have proved too ‘on the nose’, Scorsese opted to lens virtually all of the interiors at Vegas’ Riviera Casino instead, with the nearby Landmark Hotel – derelict, then – re-dressed as the glamorous entrance to The Tangiers. Ratcheting up the level of violence previously on tap in Goodfellas, Casino became a showcase for shocking displays of torture and brutality. From the picture’s pre-credit opener, Ace being blown up in his Cadillac, to the brutal hammering of a card-counting gambler’s fist, breaking every bone in his hand, and beyond, the final edit submitted to the MPAA for approval initially netted the dreaded ‘R’ rating; Scorsese, agreeing to make several trims to ensure the more friendly NC-17 (no children under 17 admitted without a parent and/or guardian) instead.

Immediately following Casino’s ‘explosive’ pre-title sequence, we are plunged into the thick of things: Las Vegas, circa 1973. Sports handicapper and Mafia associate, Sam ‘Ace’ Rothstein is sent by the Kansas City mob to manage their latest acquisition; the Teamsters-funded Tangiers Casino, whose front man, Philip Green represents a Teflon image of faux respectability. Owing to Sam’s cutthroat tactics and business savvy, he manages to double the ailing profits in no time, skimmed off the top by the Mafia before taxes. Pleased with Sam, but concerned for his welfare, Mafia boss, Remo Gaggi (Pasquale Cajano) sends boyhood pal and enforcer, Nicky Santoro, his younger brother, Dominick, and associate Frankie Marino (Frank Vincent) to act as thug muscle and bodyguards. Alas, Nicky’s venomous Jekyll and Hyde mood swings, coupled with his outrageous acts of violence, quickly get him banned from every casino in Vegas. Undaunted, Nicky, Dominick, and Frankie start a 3-man crime wave to supplement their incomes, engaging in shakedowns and burglaries without clearing things with their mob bosses back home. Meanwhile, Sam falls madly for hustler and ex-prostitute, Ginger McKenna. She becomes pregnant and they marry. But the marriage is complicated by Ginger’s lingering feelings for ex-boyfriend and con artist-turned pimp, Lester Diamond. Suspecting Lester has his own hooks into his wife, Sam sends Nicky to threaten, and later, beat up Lester after they catch him extorting money from Ginger.  Despite being ‘Grade A’ slime, Ginger cannot entirely abandon Lester. Disturbed by her husband’s behavior, brutally unhappy with their married life, and thoroughly confused as to where her loyalties lie, Ginger turns to pills and alcohol to drown her sorrows.

Back at the Tangiers, Sam fires pit boss, Don Ward (John Bloom) for gross incompetence. Indeed, Ward is a very dim bulb. Either that, or he is in cahoots with those who would endeavor to rig the house in their favor. Either way, he has to go. Regrettably, Ward's brother-in-law is the County Commissioner, Pat Webb. In retaliation for Ward’s dismissal, Webb quietly arranges for Sam's gaming license to be revoked. Bitter and angry, but not knowing who to blame, Sam derides Nicky for his recklessness. It has to stop…or else! Back in the Midwest, the Mafia bosses appoint underboss, Artie Piscano (Vinny Vella) to oversee the Tangiers daily transactions. Unfortunately, the dim-witted Piscano writes every last detail about their spurious operations in his private notebook and later, rants about these findings on the telephone from his grocery store. Have wired the store, the FBI inadvertently get an earful of tipoffs that spur their investigation of both Rothstein and the Tangiers. Unaware his public persona is about to be cracked wide open, Rothstein laments the implosion of his private life as Ginger becomes more dependent on drugs and alcohol, merely to function. At one point, she even kidnaps their daughter, Amy (Erika von Tagen) in a flubbed escape to Europe with Lester. Instead, Sam intercepts the couple in their getaway, bribing Lester with more money than he has ever known. Choosing cash over love – if, indeed, he ever truly loved Ginger to begin with – Lester bows out. Furious, Ginger plots to have her husband killed, begging Nicky to undertake the hit. Torn in his loyalties, Nicky strings Ginger along, beginning an affair right under Rothstein’s nose. Eventually, the truth surfaces. It always does. Sam disowns Ginger and breaks off all communication with Nicky.

Ginger now calls Nicky to finish the job and murder Sam. Instead, Nicky reveals he has been using her all along. Not only does he refuse to whack Sam, he categorically throws Ginger out on her ear. Ramped up on drugs and booze, Ginger wrecks her car in Sam's driveway. Now, she retrieves the key to her deposit box and makes off with her sizable loot, only to have the FBI place her under arrest, hoping to flip her testimony as a witness. All assets are frozen and the Tangiers is shuddered. Green cooperates in the investigation and Piscano dies, presumably of a heart attack, after the FBI unearth his detailed notebook. Nicky disappears. Now, the FBI try to flip Sam against Nicky, showing him pictures of Nicky and Ginger having their affair. Despite his disgust, Sam refuses to be an informant. As the crime syndicate faces incarceration, they begin to systematically knock off any and all potential witnesses who might decide to testify against them. Ginger dies of a drug overdose. But Sam narrowly escapes being blown to bits by a car bomb. Immediately, he suspects Nicky. The bosses agree and set up Nicky and Dominick, who are ambushed by Frank Marino and his own crew. Beaten, bludgeoned and buried alive in a cornfield, the last vestiges of mob influence in Vegas are presumably murdered with this lot. Scorsese’s movie concludes with a collage of images depicting the surge of big corporate entities taking over the strip, one casino at a time, effectively demolishing the past to make way for their new – and even more lucrative - ‘family-friendly’ image.  Sam, who has survived his ordeal, laments this transformation. Since retired to San Diego where he continues to work as a sports handicapper for the Mob, Sam concludes he has ended up "right back where I started".

Casino is a razor-back and unrelenting, hard-hitting masterpiece with virtually no equals. Scorsese and Pileggi are as uncompromising and grim about Vegas’ outlook for the future, even as they somehow remain oddly sentimental for the Vegas’ that was. Scorsese’s affinity for mobsters is genuine. He views them, not altogether as one-dimensional, cruel and calculating monsters. And he is ably abetted in this interpretation by DeNiro’s charismatic turn as the courtly and polished mastermind, simply interested in preserving the peace between warring factions, and maintaining his elaborate lifestyle, while looking the other way when the real ugliness takes precedence to ensure this tenuous balance endures. DeNiro, an exceptional talent to be sure, is never better than when he is working for Scorsese; the symbiosis between director and star, yielding to a multi-layered performance that rivets the audience from first to last in this nearly 3-hour crime epic. The other truly mesmerizing turn, of course, belongs to Joe Pesci – playing off his relatively diminutive physical stature as a genuine, and oft’ raging psychotic. Pesci’s Nicky Santora has no scruples, no code of honor and no ethics. He is a guy with nothing to lose and does not even possess a modicum of self-preservation when the chips are down. He merely reacts, lashing out like a rabid pit bull let loose after being taunted and tortured by his handlers. And Pesci is able to convey this truly terrifying bipolar approach to the character; bright and relatively breezy one moment/totally unhinged and frothing at the mouth the next. Between these opposites, Sharon Stones’ mark is less defined. She holds her own, but is given a big build-up in the picture’s first act, only to be almost discarded in its second; then, all but relegated to thin support – however, finely wrought – in the third. After all, Casino is not her story to tell. And Stone, who cannot be compared in her acting chops to either DeNiro or Pesci, nevertheless knows how to play the hand she has been dealt, catering to that notorious reputation, following her attention-grabbing crotch scene in Basic Instinct (1992) – the movie that got Stone noticed in more ways than one. Stone’s ‘appearance’ in that movie somewhat brands our opinion of her Ginger in this one. Hence, when this fallen woman falls, she does so with such spectacular and wild abandonment, the results are nothing less than shockingly tragic. Interestingly, Stone was the only one to be nominated for an Academy Award. 

Casino received mixed reviews upon its release; most critics, comparatively muted in their praise, suggesting Scorsese had already trounced on this familiar ground in Goodfellas. I disagree. Goodfellas is the story of one man’s immersion in mob culture, getting lost along the way, and, his unlikely escape from its clutches in the end. Casino is a saga of Vegas in miniature, using three intersecting lives as a microcosm for the perils of mob rule in Sin City. There are similarities to be sure; most notably, Scorsese employing a good many of the same faces already made familiar in his earlier effort to reappear herein. And why not? They are great faces, descriptive, intense, and, able to convey character – or lack thereof – at a glance. Pileggi’s screenplay is a marvel of concision. At just under 3-hrs. he crams an awful lot of sex, violence, drama and action into this opus magnum of crime, without ever appearing to rush the story along or needlessly belabor the use of grotesque ferocity to make his points. The end result: Scorsese’s picture has both style and substance – a rarity in cinema then, and an all but forgotten commodity, I am not entirely certain today’s Hollywood even knows how to assemble without veering one way or the other.

It makes no good sense to release a ‘remastered’ Blu-ray ‘only’ edition of Casino, since the definitive 4K release, with a Blu-ray cribbing off an older master thrown in for good measure, has been available since 2019. But that’s Universal Home Video for you. Always backwards/forwards thinking! This Blu appears to have been re-mastered off the previous 4K release. Even so, the original Blu of Casino was no slouch, so the upgrade over the old standard Blu that pre-dated the 4K is marginal at best, while still coming down a distinctive notch from the actually 4K that bests it in virtually every way. Hope that wasn’t too confusing to follow!  Color reproduction here is solid but less refined than the 4K. Fine details are solid, until one compares them to the 4K UHD disc. And then, the advantages of UHD becoming glaringly transparent. Not sure what the aim of this ‘remastered Blu-ray’ is. The audience for it appears to have already gone elsewhere for their fix. We get a DTS 5.1. It’s good. But the DTS:X on the 4K was better.  The extras that accompanied the old Blu have been shorn from this ‘remastered’ edition. Bottom line: Casino remains the high point in Scorsese’s working alliance with DeNiro.  But there is no point to this standard Blu reissue from Uni. You either own the original Blu or the 4K. So, logic…why is it never even tried at Universal?!?

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

0