Croupier

Having first been released in true blink-and-you’ll miss it fashion on this side of the Atlantic in June of 1999, Croupier seemed destined for a one-way trip to video hell, like so many neo-Brit gangster flicks (Gangster No. 1, Essex Boys) before and since. However, when it became a surprise sleeper hit both critically and commercially in the States, the film was granted a rare second chance and re-issued, its advertising campaign boasting of Croupier’s inclusion on over 75 top-ten lists as compiled by American film critics. Whether or not this reputation as some sort of lost classic is entirely deserved remains to be seen, but certainly Croupier is worthy of your attention.

Anti-hero Jack Manfred (Owen) is an aspiring author whose best shot at success would appear to lie in penning trashy gun-for-hire football novels. His father, an aging chancer, has other ideas, and fixes young Jack up with a pay-the-bills gig as a croupier in a swanky but seedy casino. Quickly earning a reputation as an honest dealer, Jack prospers despite the disapproval of his straight-laced WPC turned store-detective girlfriend Marion (McKee). Indeed, he develops an alter-ego Jake as a means of fictionalising his experiences, making for a protagonist who is often coolly (if not cruelly) detached from everything around him. Trouble, however, is to arrive in the form of mousey but vampish waitress Bella (Hardie) and even more so from professional gambler and fellow South African Jani (Kingston) who seems determined to involve Jack in his own underworld dealings. Jack has no interest in pursuing such a career, but Jake may be quite a different matter...

Once, Mike Hodges was a director of some repute, having helmed British crime-caper classic Get Carter. The intervening years haven’t been kind, though, and have seen Hodges presiding over all manner of straight-to-video crud (Black Rainbow, Morons From Outer Space). If nothing else, Croupier should rescue the man’s reputation: it’s sharply directed, as required by a narrative which is impossible to nail down in generic terms and often seems as arbitrary as the craps tables featured within.

Admittedly, it takes a while to run happily with Croupier’s mannered style, but as soon as one comes to terms with the kind of complex Mamet-like thriller on offer, this is a memorable piece of work in which even seemingly-hackneyed exchanges – such as Jack’s encounter with a white witch – work in the film’s favour as an expression of our hero’s world-weariness.

Still, it’s Clive Owen’s central role which steals the show, carrying off an omnipotent narrator’s function with his noir-ish voice over, and yet lending Jack almost a victim quality. He’s not the most likeable character you’ll ever see, but it’s a supremely convincing and often mesmerising turn. Throw in uniformly excellent performances from the supporting cast, and Croupier – if no masterpiece – is easily the most original and compelling movie around at the moment.