You Ain't Seen Me, Right? - The Gambler (1974)

You Ain't Seen Me, Right? is back with another cinematic gem that often gets overlooked in these torrid times of Martin Lawrence's fatsuit and Kate Hudson's sex life.

You Ain't Seen Me, Right? is brought to you by Daniel Palmer, of Part-Time Infidel web fame. I think his DVD collection is organised alphabetically by cinematographer.

The Gambler (1974)

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Czech-born director Karel Reisz was one of the leading lights of the ‘British New Wave' that emerged in the 1960s, helming such epochal films as Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960) and Morgan: A Suitable Case for Treatment (1966). Sensing a similar spirit of openness in the offing, Reisz relocated to America, collaborating with first-time screenwriter James Toback on his loose adaptation of Dostoyevsky's novella about his gambling woes.

Axel Freed (James Caan) is a literature professor from a wealthy family with a chronic gambling problem; he owes $44,000 to the mafia, pointing out that ‘for $10,000 they break your arms, for $20,000 they break your legs'. Under the attentive watch of his bookkeeper, Lips (Paul Sorvino), Freed desperately tries to settle his debt while holding together his relationship with his girlfriend, Billie (Lauren Hutton), and fighting the urge to continue raising the stakes.

Reisz brought a distinctly British sensibility to his creative choices, moving the camera as little as possible, composing shots in a such a way as to give his actors maximum room to operate; an approach in stark contrast to the Young Turks - Friedkin, Coppola, et al - who took every opportunity to draw attention to themselves with stylised flourishes. Victor Kemper's photography bathes every setting in a cold autumnal light. New York is an overcast expanse of grimy skyscrapers and tenements; even the bright lights of Vegas have a washed-out quality.

Caan's performance marries the brooding, tempestuous physicality of his breakthrough performance in The Godfather (1972) with a seldom seen fragility, Axel's bravado masking the fear and emptiness that is slowly overwhelming him. He deftly underlines the inherent pathos of such a greedy, selfish, ungrateful character; particularly in the moments when Axel is shown at his lowest ebb - the scene in which he breaks down in the bath while listening to the basketball game on which all his hopes rest is a triumphant moment for this underappreciated talent.

Toback's screenplay drew on his own experiences as a teacher and chimed with Reisz's background - much like Axel's grandfather, Reisz's father fled his homeland. The Gambler explores the growing tensions within the Jewish diaspora, highlighting the rift between successive generations of immigrants, from the self-made first to the cosseted third.

The Gambler ranks amongst the best films about addiction, tapping into the single-minded absorption that fuels the addictive personality. To the gambler, success or failure is immaterial, the money is unimportant; they are addicted to risk, putting reason and rationality to one side in pursuit of the initial thrill that hooked them. Axel swathes his behaviour in erudite theories and literary archetypes, but his rationales fall away as the odds lengthen.

Like Reisz's British work, The Gambler belongs to an era of mainstream cinema when films reflecting wider social change were not viewed as ‘prestige' content to pad out the schedule, and be herded into rarefied ghettos; when the major studios' corporate ownership viewed the ‘picture' business as little more than a glamorous vanity project, and a handy tax-write-off.
Great stuff - now I want to see this film AND visit Ladbrokes. More from You Ain't Seen Me, Right? next week.