Along the way down Mahowny’s spiral we meet characters from the casino world, who become harder and harder as Mahowny is willing to risk more and more. His initial bookie (character actor Maury Chaykin, of “The Sweet Hereafter” and TV’s “Nero Wolfe”), in a tacky suit, bad combover, and loud boots, feels bad about taking Mahowny’s money and accepting his wild bets (“give me a thousand on all the home teams in the AFL and a thousand on all the away teams in the NFL!”). Atlantic City John Hurt (“The Elephant Man”), whose tacky silk suits are at least outlandishly expensive, finds himself in a state of awe over Mahowny. Hurt is quite a card, seemingly building his managerial skills on James Bond villains, and obviously relishing the chance to tell someone “now get out of my office before I change my mind.” But in Las Vegas there’s no fooling around, and for a time we think Sin City may have found its match with the Iceman.
“Owning Mahowny” would make a good double-feature with Mike Hodges’ coldly brilliant “Croupier.” That movie sees the self-destruction of gamblers from the outside, viewed by a casino employee who has become addicted, not to playing, but to watching other people lose. “Croupier” is a movie in love with the feel of the chips, the sound of slot machines, and that brief glimpse of bills just before they go down the drain. It’s greatest shot is its last, as the Croupier, after ninety minutes of narration, finally glances up at the camera, sweeps thousands of dollars into the pot, and announces “the Croupier has the power to make YOU lose.” “Owning Mahowny” has less to do with the mechanics of gameplay and the complexities of odds and gambling, because Mahowny himself has less to do with them. This is not a movie of gambling strategy; Mahowny may think that’s what he’s all about—strategy, odds, winning, getting a system—but he really doesn’t care about that at all. The giant bank scam he pulls is hard to understand because all that matters is he get his money quickly and keep the stakes high.
Philip Seymour Hoffman is quietly sensational as Mahowny, a heavyset man who wants to be ignored, move slowly, breathe heavily, emit little grunts and groans. He has spent so much time as a voluntary nothing that perhaps the big gamble is all the attention he craves. PSH is rapidly becoming one of my favorite actors, if for no other reason than because of his versatility. Here he is so apologetic, so insecure, so exasperated; he’s whiny, helpless, and smart, sort of like Woody Allen, but without the intellectual and sexual baggage. Mahowny is perhaps most similar to the pornstar sidekick Hoffman played in “Boogie Nights.” But compare these two roles to his turns as the sniveling journalist in “Red Dragon,” the spoiled brat in “Scent of a Woman,” his sycophant assistant to “The Big Lebowski,” his guilt-ridden nebbish in “The 25th Hour,” his gentle eccentric in “State and Main,” his villainous madman in “Punch-Drunk Love,” and, probably his best movie, as the Europhile hedonist who suspects “The Talented Mr. Ripley.” And I haven’t seen “Magnolia,” “Love Liza,” and “Almost Famous” yet, which I have little doubt confirm PSH’s rising star.
Then there’s Minnie Driver (“An Ideal Husband”) as his dowdy girlfriend, endlessly patient, endlessly trusting, always making excuses to her friends about the actions of her man-child. Her heart is bigger than her brain and she makes the mistake of thinking that he’s in it for a prize. It’s no surprise that by the end of the film the only nice thing he has, for all his expenditures, is a wool coat she bought for him. This is not a flashy part for her, even less glamorous than Mahowny himself, but she brings a warmth and blind sincerity to the way she says “I love you.” “That’s a nice coat,” Mahowny’s bookie tells him.
Finished August 7, 2003
Copyright © 2003 Friday & Saturday Night
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