Cosmo Vittelli, the proprietor of a sleazy, low-rent Hollywood cabaret, has a real affection for the women who strip in his peepshows and the staff who keep up his dingy establishment. He also has a major gambling problem that has gotten him in trouble before. When Cosmo loses big-time at an underground casino run by mobster Mort, he isn't able to pay up. Mort then offers Cosmo the chance to pay back his debt by knocking off a pesky, Mafia-protected bookie.
Ben Gazzara Timothy Carey Seymour Cassel Robert Phillips Morgan Woodward Al Ruban Azizi Johari Haji Alice Friedland Derna Wylde Virginia Carrington Carolyn Warren John Kullers Donna Gordon Meade Roberts Kathalina Veniero Yvette Morris Jack Ackerman David Rowlands Trisha Pelham Eddie Shaw Sonny Aprile Gene Darcy Ben Marino Arlene Allison Vincent Barbi Val Avery Elizabeth Deering Soto Joe Hugh Show All…
Die Ermordung eines chinesischen Buchmachers, L'Assassinio di un Allibratore Cinese, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (Director's Cut), 차이니즈 부키의 죽음, L'assassinio di un allibratore cinese, Meurtre d'un bookmaker chinois, Mord an einem chinesischen Buchmacher, 谋杀地下老板, El asesinato de un corredor de apuestas chino, Убийство китайского букмекера, Egy kínai bukméker meggyilkolása, Zabójstwo chińskiego bukmachera, A Morte de um Apostador Chinês, チャイニーズ・ブッキーを殺した男, Mordet på en kinesisk bookmaker, A Morte de um Bookmaker Chinês, Mordet På En Kinesisk Bookmaker, 暗殺中國賭徒事件
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Germany12
USA
Russia16+
Germany
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USA
Ben Gazzara's performance here is one of those that so captures an actor's essence that it would be pointless to think about anyone else in the role. Beyond all the Cassavetes grace notes-- the dingy texture of the nightclub, the evident affection for his cast of outcasts and rogues, the dread-inducing inevitability of the title-- there's Gazzara, a wannabe big-shot who lacks the means, the common sense, and the luck to lead the kind of life he feels he deserves. His gregariousness becomes tragic.
(1978 version)
hm! probably one of my least favorites from cassavetes, but the artistry of the intimate camerawork, ben gazzara’s subdued performance as club owner cosmo vittelli, and the swirling atmosphere of his beloved burlesque house is undeniable. here, cassavetes explores the frustrating paradox of cosmo’s wanting to make meaningful art, as shown by his relentless dedication to the quality of his girls’ act rather than their Tiddies, versus his needing to use their Tiddies to draw customers into the club in the first place. it’s essentially the same issue that many indie filmmakers face, especially cassavetes himself.
the criterion blu-ray included a 16 minute audio interview with cassavetes, and this quote stuck with me:
“the threat of never making another film unless you conform is terrifying. and the critics and the festivals have been the only weapon of creative people.”
here’s to refusing to conform in the name of art 🥂
With the exception of Mabel in 'A Woman Under the Influence,' I don’t know if Cassavetes ever gave us a better "self-portrait" — with so many of his personal insecurities and struggles on display, as well as his singular drive for creative freedom — than he did through the characters of Cosmo and Mr. Sophistication in 'Killing of a Chinese Bookie.' Cosmo finds freedom through putting on his act. As he says, he only feels like himself when he is playing a part. His club is where he can be who he wants to be: that self-styled man of comfort, the cool master of ceremonies who writes all his own skits and holds creative control over the productions. He makes…
Beyond its obvious positions as a "self-portrait of artist as a pimp" what always strike a chord for me the most is the editing. Cassavetes is obvious one of the great editing minds in film, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie is even more impressive because it moves with fatalistic certainty, we know of Cosmo's trap as much as one would about Edward G. Robinson in a Lang movie, yet Cassavetes keeps finds ways to surprise us until hitting that destination. The movie is three long traps, Cosmo falling in bed with the mob, the title hit and how he deals with fallback which often is conduct with precise but lively manner. That makes The Killing of a Chinese Bookie…
“Look at me, right? I'm only happy when I'm angry...when I'm sad, when I can play the fool...when I can be what people want me to be rather than be myself.”
A somber movie about a sad man who ruins his life trying to play a role he cannot actually perform, and only comes to understand this about himself when it is too late.
Watched as part of the Criterion Channel’s “Neo-Noir” collection.
Road House's super baddie Ben Gazzara as a strip club owner with a gambling addiction. When his debt blazes out of control, he's forced to commit a deadly sin in John Cassavetes's sweaty lusty intoxicating film noir. Large ketchup bottle. Stiff drink. Ben Gazzara's white leisure suit. Meaningful meaningless chit-chat. The way Ben Gazzara smokes. Vince's nose. Big pimpin' Seymour Cassel. Bootleg Strip Club DJ. Champagne hottie. Real motherfuckers drink Dom Pérignon straight from the bottle. Pitch-perfect piano music. John Cassavetes's directing skills blow me away. The way his lens captures everyday life and raw human emotion is straight money. Sexy as fuck striptease. Runaway tits. Poetic poetry. Shaggy doggie. The Shining Poster Playboy Playmate. Seymour Cassel wasn't born old?…
Cigarette smoke stretches in concentrated light like the remnants of a ghost; past friendships once salvaged have become tireless haunts. The nightclub sign--a painting--has color dripping off of it. God's water over-saturates your pallet. You remember, this is the result of your life’s work. Your people, the downtrodden you have found, love you and you’d never trade it for anything. So you do what must be done to save it; to make the old glory last.
The pain is immense. You reach into your pocket for... an answer; something. The ghost of a passing car dances with the ghost from your lungs. The nightclub sign is the candlelight for their waltz. Entranced, you remove your hand from your pocket to reveal the lighter that was there. The fuel, the spark... the energy behind all things, comes from the thumb that flicks it on.
