The Secret Sequel to Goodfellas
If Seinfeld was the epitome of a sitcom about nothing, then Martin Scorsese’s Casino can be considered a near-perfect film, with its episodic structure. It was Scorsese’s attempt at bridging the themes in Goodfellas, an unofficial sequel of sorts. Scorsese took a gamble that interesting characters and scenarios could carry a three-hour movie, with a dozen plot threads, as many locations, and fifty characters. It’s easy to forget that this mob saga is technically a film about incorrectly filed paperwork and pension funds. Based on research by Nicholas Pileggi, the same author who wrote the book that Scorsese’s classic Goodfellas was based on, Casino was never going to be an ordinary movie. The production process was informal from the start, without a foundation to shape the narrative. “In this case, it was like a pile of notes,” producer Barbara De Fina admitted.
The lack of a plan fit the mood of the film and the anything-goes locale. Scorsese might have envisioned the characters as archetypes, but he was relieved to let the actors fill in all the blanks. Because of certain legal obstacles, they often had no option but to make it up on the spot. It was centered loosely around the black irony of a gambling expert who makes the worst long-shot bet in history, and every other character ruins their brilliant scheme through sheer pride. Though Casino has been compared to a Greek tragedy by more than one reviewer, it’s more like a meandering soap opera.
In the Blu-ray commentary, Pileggi expounds on Scorsese’s fascination with the Italian criminal underworld, this film as a natural continuation of his earlier films: Mean Streets and Goodfellas. Casino marked the end point of the gangster dream, whereas the first two movies analyze the early, immature stages of two-bit hoods on their little neighborhood street, bumbling their way upward, selling stolen cigarettes. Casino represented “the top of the mob world,” as Pileggi called it, while Goodfellas was the middle-class, suburban stage of mob success. Scorsese framed it rather as a battle of egos, the “brains and brawn” unable to maintain the necessary balance to keep a lucrative racket going. The mob culture influenced not just the characters but how he filmed the movie, full of tangents and anecdotes, in and of themselves not crucial to the plot, which Scorsese openly admits were self-indulgent. The film is intended to be excessive and vulgar, veering from emotional tone to tone.
According to producer De Fina, the source material book (Casino: Love and Honor in Las Vegas) hadn’t even been completed when Scorsese was approached to adapt it into a film. The fact that his old friend, Nicholas Pileggi, was writing it, sweetened the deal for him. The book came out about a month before the film. Scorsese preferred characters, not plot. Casino is an ideal demonstration of this philosophy; story-wise, the movie can be incoherent at times, but every character’s arc is always clear. The film was inspired by just a scrap of newspaper, a domestic disturbance case around which Scorsese constructed a whole film. Due to legal issues and time restraints, real-life figures were combined, cut, or renamed.
Should the film seem erratic and disjointed, that was not a coincidence. Editor Thelma Schoonmaker made use of new digital editing tech to make more experimental edits. In the same breath, Scorsese explains, “The whole film was really carefully planned out. It was restructured in the editing.” Scorsese had chunks of the film to play with, but each chronological chunk had no real set plotting or end goal, only setting up the characters, the crimes, and the emotional stakes. The film was shot fast and loose, with the cast trusting that the editing would pull all the pieces together. Scorsese approached it less as a drama than a documentary, letting the actors get a gist of the characters and then allowing them to riff on it as they felt like. The actors had a lot of leeway in how the character presented themselves to the audience, and some of the most powerful scenes in the film can be attributed to the cast reinterpreting the scene and going off-script.
While Casino might not be Martin Scorsese’s tightest or most quotable film, it shows how well-oiled his system was at this stage of his career that he could produce such a compelling, deep, and satisfying movie on such a bare-bones framework based on little more than a hazy mental image.
If Seinfeld was the perfect sitcom, a show about nothing, Martin Scorsese’s Casino can be said to be a nearly perfect film, and just as episodic. It also was Scorsese’s attempt to bridge the themes in Goodfellasa subtle, unofficial sequel of sorts. Scorsese gambled that interesting characters in scenarios could carry a three-hour movie. When you have a dozen plot threads, as many locations, and fifty characters, it’s easy to forget this mob saga is technically a film about incorrectly-filed paperwork and pension funds.
Based on research by Nicholas Pileggi — the same author who had written the book that Scorsese’s classic Goodfellas was based — Casino was never going to be an ordinary movie. Unlike Goodfellasthis production process was informal from the start, without a foundation to shape the narrative. “In this case it was like a pile of notes,” producer Barbara De Fina admitted.
The lack of a plan fit the mood of the film and the anything-goes locale. Scorsese might have envisioned the characters as archetypes, but he was relieved to let the actors fill in all the blanks. Because of certain legal obstacles, they often had no option but to make it up on the spot.
Centered loosely around the black irony of a gambling expert who makes the worst long-shot bet in history, he and every other character ruin their brilliant scheme through sheer pride. Though Casino has been compared to a Greek tragedy by more than one reviewer, it’s really more like a meandering soap opera.
Scorsese’s Mob Trilogy
Pileggi, in the Blu-ray commentary, expounds on Scorsese’s fascination with the Italian criminal underworld, this film as a natural continuation of his earlier films: Mean Street and Goodfellas. Casino marked the end point of the gangster dream, whereas the first two movies analyze the early, immature stages of two-bit hoods on their little neighborhood street, bumbling their way upward, selling stolen cigarettes.
Casino represented “the top of the mob world,” as Pileggi called it, while Goodfellas was the middle class, suburban stage of mob success. Scorsese framed it rather as a battle of egos, the “brains and brawn” unable to maintain the necessary balance to keep a lucrative racket going. The mob culture influenced not just the characters but how he filmed the movie, full of tangents and anecdotes, in and of themselves not crucial to the plot, which Scorsese openly admits were self-indulgent. The film is intended to be excessive and vulgar, veering from emotional tone to tone.
However, a straight sequel was never seriously considered. The director, actors, producers, editor, and screenwriter choosing to carry on the same path as that of Goodfellasbut in an entirely different universe in Vegas far from that of the Henry Hill character in New Jersey. The colorful mafia characters always being their own worst enemy, taking one too many risks for the sake of money.
Holes in the Desert, Holes in the Script
According to producer De Fina, the source material book (Casino: Love and Honor in Las Vegas) hadn’t even been completed when Scorsese was approached to adapt it into a film. The fact that his old friend, Nicholas Pileggi, was writing it, sweetened the deal for him. The book came out about a month before the film. However, Scorsese has said he prefers characters, not plot. Casino is an ideal demonstration of this philosophy; story wise, the movie can be incoherent at times, but every character’s arc is always clear.
Some movies are based on books, and others plays. Not Casino. The almost three-hour-long crime-epic-to-end-all-crime-epics was inspired by just a scrap of newspaper, a domestic disturbance casewhich Scorsese constructed a whole film around. All he had to do was flesh out all the details leading up to that interaction to make it make sense, Robert De Niro, Sharon Stone, and James Woods running with it.
Due to legal issues and time restraints, real life figures where combined, cut, or renamed. “They wrote the screenplay before the book was done,” the producer said. Pileggi’s sordid little tidbits tantalized Scorsese, who couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Without the myriad oddball characters no one could make a story about embezzling and license-hearing boards interesting.
Improv 101
Should the film seem erratic and disjointed, that was not a coincidence, editor Thelma Schoonmaker making use of new digital editing tech to make more experimental edits. In the same breath, Scorsese bafflingly explains, “The whole film was really carefully planned out. It was restructured in the editing.” Scorsese had chunks of the film to play with, but as he tells it, each chronological chunk had no real set plotting or end goal, only setting up the characters, the crimes, and the emotional stakes.
The film was shot fast and loose, with the cast trusting that the editing would pull all the pieces together. Scorsese all along approached it less as a drama than a documentary, letting the actors get a gist of the characters and then allow them to riff on it as they felt like. If there was one thing that he plotted meticulously, it was the music, keeping a chart on his office wall during the shoot to plan out musical segues, staging scenes around the eclectic soundtrack.
The actors had a lot of leeway in how the character presented themselves to the audience, Joe Pesci changing his character, Nicky Santoro, insisting he have more depth than what was in the police depositions. Actors had “100% percent freedom to improvise and do whatever they wanted within the boundaries of the composition,” co-star Kevin Pollack praised the director. Some of the most powerful scenes in the film can be chalked up to the cast reinterpreting the scene and going off script.
And why shouldn’t they? It’s not like the director wasn’t doing the same thing. Which goes to show what happens when a film crew trusts the director and his or her system. While Casino might not be Martin Scorsese’s tightest or most quotable film, it shows how well-oiled his system was at this stage of his career that he could produce such a compelling, deep, and satisfying movie on such a bare-bones framework based on little more than a hazy mental image.
