Sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down, sometimes you break even

Film: Hard Eight
Rating: 4 1/2 out of 5

It's hard to make a gambling movie work. Many have tried, few have been successful. Often, they simply abandon creative hope, and instead of trying to present something fresh or thoughtful they give us testosterone-fueled inanities about as a clever as a NASCAR race. In his brilliant debut feature, writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson does what the wise creators of certain sports films have done: correlate themes of the game with themes in the lives of the players.

The movie opens with an unkempt young man sitting outside of a diner, looking a little like a bum. An older gentleman approaches and offers to buy him a coffee. After a rough start, they get to talking. The bum is John (John C. Reilly), in need of nothing more than $6,000 for his mother's funeral. The older man is Sydney (Philip Baker Hall), an aged and coolly assertive gambler with the moral fortitude of a saint. Out of the kindness of his heart, Sydney offers to take John to Las Vegas and show him how to make a living. He teaches the increasingly impressionable John some of his tricks.

Here, in one of his little-known earlier roles, the always-lovable Reilly is nothing short of wonderful. He pulls together his best boyish qualities to become a perfect guide into the universe of the movie, but is able to switch on the desperation when later scenes call for it.

The film then jumps ahead two years; John, living the pretty-good life, has become Sydney's loyal protege. He makes choices in life the way he makes choices in the casinos: not without Sydney's advice. But to his mentor's disapproval he has also begun associating with a shady crowd, namely the disreputable Jimmy (Samuel L. Jackson, in a minor performance but one overlooked among his best).

It should be noted, this part of the movie creates an effect I have rarely felt watching a film: intimidation. Anderson makes us feel like we've woken up in a strange place. That we aren't just leisurely observing these people, they are towering over us. Here we have set of characters that seem ten feet tall; and yet, there are hints that a whole world of them exists beyond our view.

But, like a gambler, the film isn't satisfied. It changes slowly, morphing into other tones, carried by the vibrant dialogue. In a few gritty, well-timed scenes, Sydney takes a despondent cocktail waitress named Clementine (Gwyneth Paltrow) under his wing. He ambiguously sets her up with John and the two hit it off in a scene or two of charismatic innocence. Soon, however, the three find themselves over their heads in a sticky situation, leading to seemingly low-key sequences with surprising intensity.

And of course, we must not forget the star. As the paternal and stoic Sydney, Philip Baker Hall (perhaps America's greatest TV show guest actor) finds the role that he has always approached with his character acting, but never been able to fully explore. I can think of no other actor that could play Sydney the same way. Others would feel the need to actually show their emotion, without understanding that the emotion is all in the dialogue. Sydney is an extraordinarily compassionate individual, but he always speaks in the same terse, professional voice. He never smiles and he never frowns. When he talks, he means business. When he thinks, he means business. And his business seems to be the business of helping people he considers worthy of his help. He makes us ask ourselves what we're supposed to: "Who is this guy?"

Before he hit the big time, the plot-visionary P. T. Anderson gave us this humbly sizzling drama, proving that in life, as in gambling, sometimes you're up and sometimes you're down. And sometimes you break even.