Les flambeurs

I was fortunate enough to see California Split this past weekend on the big screen. The American Film Institute (AFI) Theater in the Kennedy Center is currently (February '02) having a retrospective of Altman's 70s films, and, while I had never heard of the film, I was mysteriously drawn to it. I'm glad I went. The chemistry between Gould and Segal is amazing. It's is if they've been friends their whole lives. They seemed very relaxed and care-free. The story is sad yet exciting, the dialog witty and almost innocent, and the direction is, of course, great. Plus, there is a brief scene with a very young Jeff Goldblum, who plays Segal's boss.

If you happen upon this film on TV one late night, or it's shown in a theater near you for some reason, please see it. It's a lost treasure.

Bill Denny (Geore Segal) and Charly Waters (Elliot Gould) cross paths at a California poker parlor. Denny is a casual player, Waters a motormouth pro who loves to psyche opponents. When a player suspects the two are card sharks he exacts revenge in a parking lot, further bonding the pair. Denny is soon caught up in Waters world of the professional gambler, one that is far from his dull everyday existence to one filled with pressure, addiction but most importantly excitement.

Director Robert Altman does an excellent job of of establishing a chokingly oppressive mood and setting in this episodic gambling story that spends most of its time at a poker table or race track. It is a somewhat sordid and tawdry existence however that is soon working on fumes for a storyline, Altman's vaunted improvisational form, eventually hamstrung by the banality of the next bet.

Segal and Gould buddy up fairly well but soon grow obnoxious and annoying with their pursuit of big pay days and overlong song and dance duets. The climactic Reno scene pulsates with suspense resulting in a nice offbeat ending but like Bill at the end you might be asking yourself, is that all there is?

Of all Robert Altman's films, this one is the best, in my mind. Meaning it stood out the most for me and it still feels so fresh after all this time, like most of Altman's films anyway.

Even if you don't care for this director's films, watch it just for the marvelous chemistry between George Segal and Elliott Gould, two outstanding actors, and for those who want to see how real improvisation is done, watch closely how Elliott Gould does it in this movie, I guarantee you've never seen anything like it before or since. I was shaking my head in amazement at such talent, wow!

An enjoyable film, funny as hell, but pitiful, too.

Why California Split remains among the most obscure of Robert Altman's extraordinary 1970s oeuvre is a mystery. Its stars -- Elliot Gould and George Segal -- were at the top of their form, free and comfortable working in Altman's off-the-cuff, low-key style. Its supporting cast -- Ann Prentiss, Gwen Welles and especially Bert Remsen, as the cross-dressing old jane "Helen Brown," -- is memorable. And its full gallery of extras (many drawn from the therapeutic community Synanon) populate a surreal gambling netherworld in California and Nevada. Altman is working in highest gear with the layered, semi-improvised and alluringly murky style he pioneered. As in Altman's best work, the story just sort of happens, without much distinction between foreground and backdrop, principal characters and walk-ons. Lacking the rigid and didactic "dramaturgy" of its competitors, California Split endures as one of the most probing examinations of the soul and psyche of the abnormal gambler ever filmed.

Altman at the absolute top of his form--which is to say among the freest, loosest and sensorily densest great movies ever made in America. Visually and sonically thick as a brick, it also represents some of the highest-flying improvisatory acting you've ever seen. Put the Godard of the early sixties in a polyester shirt, lay him down among the rummies and compulsive cases of the American gambling subculture, and fill him with equal parts beer and caffeine, and you have some idea of this thoroughly amazing, free-and-easy comedy, which has a scary undertow: the scene where George Segal tries to persuade co-addict Elliott Gould of the hollowness of the big win might be the most scarily desolate in any Altman picture.