Review of The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976) by Kevin M — 10 Dec 2009

A scuzzy lounge act becomes an apt metaphor for the crumbling self-esteem of the club's owner. Cosmo's kind of a dick but he's also a consummate professional, even if his profession is hardly noble. His analog, an old fairy in gaudy stage makeup known as "Mr. Sophistication", leads an ever changing bevy of low-rent beauties in routines obsessively choreographed by Cosmo. No matter how hard he tries to corral his "talent", the acts invariably become loose and disjointed. Improvisation rules the game.

If the sloppy nature of the nightclub acts echo the directorial ethos of Cassavetes, his tale of Cosmo's efforts to relieve debt speak of lifelong struggles with self-identity and artistic integrity. In addition to its deceptively sharp dissection of film noir, "Chinese Bookie" also works as a deconstruction of the samurai film. Cosmo may be an alcoholic assclown but he's also an honorable, borderline masochistic perfectionist. Witness the bold facade he puts on as he confronts his Mafia debtors.

Later, watch breathlessly as Cosmo executes a bold plan that involves buying a dozen burgers (stuffed in one bag, to reduce waste), and turns into a game of deadly improvisation. There's that Cassavetes work ethic again. Even as the script for Mr. Sophistication's act must be compromised, as various cover girls unexpectedly drop out, even as the bartender doesn't even know what song is being performed, the act remains successful in spite of itself. You just gotta have a little soul to go along with all that elbow grease.