Review: Casino Jack
Jack Abramoff isn't known as a funny guy, and his story -- an infuriating tale of fraud and political corruption -- isn't funny, either. The former high-rolling lobbyist arguably is one of America's most hated public figures, and his scandalous tenure as a Washington power player only deepened the American public's cynicism about politics.
Given Abramoff's notoriety, mining his story for darkly comic gold is risky. And taking this risk has only a modest payoff in Casino Jack, a stylish and busy movie that's sometimes very funny but isn't quite the smart political satire it could have been.
Casino Jack, which first screened in town on Austin Film Festival's closing night in partnership with The Texas Observer, is a reasonably accurate portrayal of Abramoff's money-fueled machinations, in least in the general sense if not in some of the details. The longtime political operative (and onetime film producer who sullied many a multiplex with the Dolph Lundgren dreckfest Red Scorpion) became an über-lobbyist in the mid 1990s, using his ties to Tom DeLay and other powerful Republicans to help pass business-friendly legislation for his clients. His client list included the usual corporate conglomerates, but also governments such as The Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands and several Indian tribes with gambling interests.
Abramoff's dealings were far too broad and complex to describe in detail here; they're also not easily distilled into a feature film script, although Casino Jack hits many of his career highlights (or more accurately, lowlights). The essence of Abramoff (drolly played in the film by a somewhat miscast Kevin Spacey) is that he was little more than a con man who bilked many of his lobbying clients, particularly the Indian tribes, out of millions of dollars while delivering little or nothing to them. Abramoff was an especially blatant proponent of Washington's pay-to-play culture, lavishing politicians with stadium skybox seats and extravagant golfing vacations in exchange for political favors for his clients. He also was involved in a fraudulent deal to buy SunCruz Casinos, a Florida casino cruise company.
Abramoff's hubris ultimately undid him. For his involvement in a Washington influence-peddling scandal, he was convicted of mail fraud, conspiracy and tax evasion and sentenced to four years in federal prison. For his involvement in the SunCruz scandal, he also was convicted in Florida of conspiracy, honest services fraud and tax evasion and sentenced to six years. He is scheduled to be released in December.
So, what's funny about all this? Not much, although Casino Jack does have its share of cringingly funny moments and darkly satirical observations. The humor is mostly of the one-liner and insult-joke variety, and it doesn't always work. Some of the jokes are downright odd, especially when uttered by Abramoff and his astonishingly corrupt cohorts; we don't expect to hear comic trash talk from the Bush administration's inner circle. Much of the film focuses on the SunCruz scandal, which isn't particularly funny either, although Jon Lovitz is often hilarious as Adam Kidan, Abramoff's sleazy partner in the deal.
The film's comic thread is tempered with attempts to humanize Abramoff as a devoted family man and devout Jew. But although both apparently are true for the real Abramoff, they aren't quite believable in the movie. The fictional Abramoff isn't a fully realized character, and the film doesn't really explain how he can dote on his children and dearly love his wife, Pam (Kelly Preston), yet feel no remorse when defrauding his clients. This is probably due to Casino Jack's densely packed story. With all the complicated subplots and glimpses into Abramoff's many and varied ventures (aside from being a lobbyist and investor, he also was a restaurateur and founder of an Orthodox Jewish school), there isn't time to fully develop any of them or explain the characters' motivations.
Spacey is undeniably talented and has done great work in films such as L.A. Confidential and American Beauty. But he's not quite right for the role of Abramoff, or at least the intense, dark and thoroughly loathsome Abramoff we saw in Congressional hearings. Never mind that Spacey doesn't look much like Abramoff; the real problem is that his features and demeanor are simply too pleasant. While he's been convincingly menacing in other films, in Casino Jack he's not really believable and never masters Abramoff's soulless public persona. He's much better in Abramoff's more humane moments, but again, the script doesn't really explain this humanity.
The other cast members fare better, probably because most of their characters are far less recognizable than Abramoff. Lovitz does what he does best, which is playing various shades of himself. He's uproariously obnoxious as Kidan, generating much of the film's comic spark as he fumbles and lies his way through his shady dealings with shady characters. Barry Pepper is entirely smarmy and completely unsympathetic as Abramoff's reckless business partner, Michael Scanlon. Pepper's philandering, thoroughly selfish Scanlon embodies Washington's backroom-dealing political culture like no other character. And in his small and potentially thankless role as DeLay, Spencer Garrett steals a few scenes with his largely dead-on portrayal of the arrogant, phonily pious congressman.
Despite my many criticisms of Casino Jack, it isn't a terrible film. It's just not clever or polished enough to be a really good film, although it has some good moments. I'd recommend it to my fellow political junkies as an interesting and unlikely take on the Abramoff scandals, but not to anyone who isn't really into politics. If you're not well versed in all things Abramoff, Casino Jack might be confusing and a little boring when it isn't funny. On the other hand, if you want to learn more about Abramoff, I highly recommend Casino Jack and the United States of Money, a totally humorless but fascinating documentary about America's most infamous lobbyist.