Leaving Las Vegas

Not unlike John Huston's Under The Volcano, Leaving Las Vegas borrows from Greek mythology, obliquely mirroring the tragedy and pathos of Orpheus' failed attempt to rescue his dead wife, Eurydice, from Hades. Mike Figgis obliges us with a helpful hint in the scene where Nicolas Cage gives Elizabeth Shue a present of earrings: Greek cameos.

As in the ancient tale, love challenges the inevitability of death, although, in the case of LLV, roles are upended and sometimes blurred, and Orphean references are either thinly disguised, or non-specific to the point of being thoroughly sublimated. Academic, to be sure, but completely acceptable as long as LLV can sustain itself and remain engaging. And it surely does, thanks to Figgis' intelligent script and direction, Cage's role as a down-and-out writer and his protracted self-destruction, and Shue's portrayal of a lonely hooker, lifting that old bromide beyond what could have been routine, to a level not seen since Jane Fonda's character in Klute. Excellent performances all around.

With all that said, this film is not for everyone (in particular those who only respond to gratuitous sex, car chases, and mindless pyrotechnics). The lurid depictions of despair, self-loathing, and violence could put off even the most hardened social worker. In my mind's eye, I could see psychiatrists amongst the theater audiences, furiously jotting down their observations. Understandable; the two principal characters are, in the common parlance, screwed up. One cannot cope with failure, so decides to opt out, while the other does cope, but only barely, existing along the ragged edges of what passes for society in Nevada Hell. These details, though, tend to outline and, indeed, strengthen the true heart of this film: Sacrifice and Unconditional Love.

If this film is not for everyone, then who is it for? Those with real life experience and the maturity gained thereby. Those with strong emotional constitutions. Anyone appreciative of impassioned performances. Freudians. Alcoholics, recovering and otherwise. Pimps. Priests. Classicists. Petty whiners in need of perspective. And, more than anyone else, couples who plan on breaking up. In sickness and in health, 'til death do us part. 9.5 out of 10.

"Leaving Las Vegas" is an insightful, harrowing experience about the binding forces of true romance, the power of encouragement and compassion, and the tragic effects of alcoholism. The performances are absolutely astounding: Nicholas Cage delivers one of the most unforgettable, genuine, and human performances ever captured on film (a well-deserved Oscar for every reason), and Elisabeth Shue, as his soul provider and protector through the trauma of his alcoholic turmoil is sentimental, passionate, and definitely deserving of the Oscar for Best Actress in 1995, providing us with the eye of Ben Sanderson's heart and soul, as his equally troubled lover who has pledged to stay with him through tears and trials. Director Mike Figgis is intensely effective in following the many turmoils of Sanderson as he copes with terminal alcoholism, even going so far as to declaring he will "drink himself to death in Las Vegas", and the effects of his struggle upon his functions, health, and spirit, as well as the corresponding attributes of his loyal lover, Sara. I'm certain that anyone who has experienced the turmoil of alcoholism or has been deeply involved with such an abuser will gravely appreciate the realism and depth of this film to address the egregious effects of drinking constantly, and how this alcoholism tears many lives literally apart. I was horrified by Sanderson's dependence upon alcoholism as a substitute for happiness and control, and Nicholas Cage's uncanny human performance, with all of his appropriate, convincing twitches and erratic movements, enhanced the compassion and torment I felt for this character, who has literally surrendered his life to this terrible disease of alcoholism. We gasp in horror as we see Sanderson taking a shower with a bottle of gin in hand, and trembling to the refrigerator for a bottle of vodka: these are the true, tragic symptoms of alcoholism, and this film does an excellent job in addressing them. A brilliant, tragic, yet extremely essential study of the disease of alcoholism and how it can destroy every aspiration, every desire, and every state of consciousness we have within ourselves, when we are constantly craving "one more bottle of vodka" 24 hours a day, 7 days a week... Nicholas Cage delivers one of the most heartfelt and eerily convincing performances in the history of film, and this is one lamentable, subliminal look at one of the saddest and unnecessary addictions in humans: striving to either enhance, better, or in this case, destroy their lives in constantly drinking intoxicating and deadly substances. Sanderson to Sara: "You can never make me stop drinking"--- the sad, yet frighteningly real state of mind of a disparaged, hopeless, alcoholic. **** out of ****

Nic Cage is hit and miss with me. This is him at his best. His pain, apathy, hopelessness, helplessness, pathetic-ness (if that's a word) is heart wrenching. You can't help but pity him but at the same time you know he's on the correct path -- for him. It's sad. But beautiful at the same time because of his relationship with her. The thing that makes this performance so amazing to me is that he's usually such a loud, boisterous character, sometimes to the point of obnoxiousness but here he is so understated. If it's not the best performance of all time, it is definitely his best performance. For me.

Having recovered from the mind-numbing Heat, a supposed character study, I was eager to sink my teeth into a different 1995 gem and I found it here with Leaving Las Vegas. With only two important characters, the entire film rests heavily on the shoulders of Nicolas Cage and Elisabeth Shue, and neither of them disappoint.

Of the two, Nicolas Cage is the Oscar winner and the truly deserving one at that. He is simply hypnotic as Ben Sanderson, an alcoholic so far gone he doesn't even remember why he wants to die. His withdrawal scenes are so real they are upsetting, whereas his drunken charisma is so real its almost funny. The balance that Cage strikes really highlights how tragic his character really is. He conveys hatred and rage and loneliness and despair, and you will be so sad yet so hooked that its impossible to look away. Elisabeth Shue gets off to a slower start than Cage, but she is still an endearing, emotional character, capable of great things.

The writing is very good, giving Cage the perfect, pitiful dialogue in order to serve his woeful character, and even throws in a hypnotic monologue or two. The best thing that Figgis achieves in this film is his cruel and deliberate intersplicing of mood-killing incidents (invariably caused by alcohol) between the moments of love and passion that Shue and Cage share. It is a relentless reminder that their love story is completely doomed. Sting's My One and Only Love is all over this film, which I thought was a very good choice, in addition to the beautiful and haunting score.

The final act focuses a little too much on Shue and not enough on Cage, and whilst their final scene together was appropriately pathetic to suit the tragedy of the film, I couldn't help but feel less engaged. I also didn't enjoy Shue's constant commentary, given that it doesn't really go anywhere.

But between the raw passion of Nicholas Cage and the uncompromising guiding hand of Mike Figgis, any complaints I could ever have otherwise found in Leaving Las Vegas are completely washed away.

Ben Sanderson is an alcoholic, who after getting released from his well paid screen writing position, heads to Vegas with his severance pay. Where he seriously plans to drink himself to death. But whilst cruising down the strip he meets Sera, a nicely turned out prostitute, and both troubled souls come together in an unlikely romance.

Based around the semi-autobiographical novel by John O'Brien, an alcoholic who committed suicide before the film made it to the screen, this is a sad, dark and deeply upsetting picture. Sanderson and his plight has no motive, we are not fed reasons for his nihilistic behaviour. We find him at the beginning of the film joyously hurtling thru a liquor market isle, promptly filling his shopping cart with bottles of liquor. From here on in we know that this is no ordinary film about an alcoholic trying to get off the booze, we are on a train to Bleakville, stops at Love and Liberation seem a very long way away.

Enter Sera, the sweet and wholesome prostitute, who having escaped the abusive and borderline psycho pimp, Yuri, is herself in need of liberation. But can she carry the burden of both as this unlikely and almost certainly doomed romance starts to become significant? Nicholas Cage as Sanderson is terrific, very compelling, realistic and segueing from zany wired comedy to the desolation of Sanderson's death wish descent within a heart beat. Elisabeth Shue as Sera is also incredibly potent, if perhaps guilty of looking too pristine, and prompting questions of why she would be drawn to Ben's world anyway?

Shue none the less works her socks off to make Sera sensitive and believable. Directed by Mike Figgis, who shot it beautifully in Super 16 film, the film won a Best Actor Academy Award for Cage, and garnered nominations for Best Actress {Shue} & Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay {both Figgis}. Massively popular and praised on release, it has lost none of the impact that it had back then. 8/10