Casino (film)

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Casino is an Academy Award-nominated 1995 crime drama film. Sam "Ace" Rothstein is called by the mob to oversee the day-to-day operations at the Tangiers Casino in Las Vegas. Nicky Santoro, an enforcer, is sent by the mob to make sure their money is skimmed off the top, and that the casino and the other mobsters are kept in line. Casino follows Sam "Ace" Rothstein (De Niro), a Jewish American gambling expert handicapper who is asked by the Chicago Outfit to oversee the day-to-day casino and hotel operations at the Tangiers Casino in Las Vegas. There, Ace interacts with his old friend from Chicago, Nicholas "Nicky" Santoro (Pesci), a "made man" who gives Ace street and casino protection and launders money. In Las Vegas, Ace meets a attractive and well dressed woman named Ginger McKenna, who is street wise, and a chip hustler. Ace's relationship with Ginger McKenna proceeds quickly from dating, to having a child with her. Soon Ace and Ginger get married. In some ways, Ace's relationship with Ginger has (Stone) issues early on. Ginger has continued her friendship with Lester Diamond (Woods), who tries to get Ginger to give him $25,000 of Ace's money. When Ace learns of this, he has Diamond beaten up, and tells Diamond to leave Ginger alone.

Directed by Martin Scorsese. Written by Nicholas Pileggi and Martin Scorsese.
No One Stays At The Top Forever (taglines)

Sam "Ace" Rothstein[edit]

  • When you love someone, you've gotta trust them. There's no other way. You've got to give them the key to everything that's yours. Otherwise, what's the point? And for a while, I believed that's the kind of love I had.
  • No matter how big a guy might be, Nicky would take him on. You beat Nicky with fists, he comes back with a bat. You beat him with a knife, he comes back with a gun. And you beat him with a gun, you better kill him, because he’ll keep coming back and back until one of you is dead.
  • In the casino, the cardinal rule is to keep them playing and keep them coming back. The longer they play, the more they lose. In the end, we get it all.
  • We all have a past! You have a past, I have a past, and my past is no worse than yours, but you guys think you have the right to pass judgment on me!
  • Meeting in the middle of the desert always made me nervous. It's a scary place. I knew about the holes in the desert, of course, and everywhere I looked, there could have been a hole.
  • [to Ginger, about her and Lester planning to run away with Amy] Yeah, but I've been told that before, "We're working it out." You think that you're home... after what you just put me through with Amy, is a favor to me? So, counting the watch, let's say another four thousand for expenses over the weekend... of which you must have had a good time. I know he did. That's for sure. I know that... fuckin' piece of shit had a good fuckin' time. On my money. You might as well have fucked him, which you probably did anyway. (Ginger glares at him) You're lookin' at me a certain way. You - you're teary-eyed, huh? You're upset. You're a good actress, you know that? Good fuckin' actress. You can fuckin' get that pity out of people. I'm not a john, you understand? You always thought I was, but I'm not. And I'm not a sucker. That fuckin' pimp cocksucker. He's lucky I didn't kill him last time. Lucky he's fuckin' livin'. And if you would've stayed with Amy... and you would've ran away... you would've been fuckin' dead. Both of you. Dead. Dead.
  • After all the threats and all the bullshit, it turned out Ginger didn't tell 'em anything. But by then, the Feds didn't need her, anyway. They had all the pieces they needed. And everybody began to tumble, one after the other... just like dominoes. Between Piscano complaining on a wire. Between Nicky, Ginger, me and my license... paradise... we managed to really fuck it all up.
  • After Ginger took off, she wasn't much help to anybody. She found some pimps, lowlifes, druggies and bikers in L.A.. And in a few months, they went through all the money and all the jewels. After they found her body, I hired a private doctor to do another autopsy. He said they gave her a hot dose. In the end, all she had left was $3,600 in mint-condition coins.
  • No matter what the feds or the papers might have said about my car-bombing, it was amateur night - and you could tell. Whoever it was, they put the dynamite under the passenger side. But what they didn't know - what nobody outside the factory knew - was that that model car was made with a metal plate under the driver's seat. It's the only thing that saved my life. The bombing was never authorized, but I suspect I know who lit the fuse, and so did the powers that be.
  • The word was out. The bosses had enough of Nicky. They had enough. How much were they gonna take? So they made an example of him and his brother. They buried them while they were still breathing. They had other ideas for me.
  • The town will never be the same. After the Tangiers, the big corporations took it all over. Today, it looks like Disneyland. And while the kids play cardboard pirates, Mommy and Daddy drop the house payments and Junior's college money on the poker slots. In the old days, dealers knew your name, what you drank, what you played. Today, it's like checking into an airport, and if you order room service, you're lucky if you get it by Thursday. Today, it's all gone. You got a whale show up with four million in a suitcase, and some 25-year-old hotel school kid is gonna want his social security number. After the Teamsters got knocked out of the box, the corporations tore down practically every one of the old casinos. And where did the money come from to rebuild the pyramids? Junk bonds. But in the end, I wound up right back where I started. I could still pick winners, and I could still make money for all kinds of people back home. And why mess up a good thing? And that's that.

Nicky Santoro[edit]

  • [About the bosses] These old greaseballs may not look it, but believe me, these are the men who secretly control Las Vegas, because they managed the Teamsters Union. The Teamsters Union was who you had to go to in order to borrow money to build a casino. And no one got approved for a loan from the Teamster's pension fund unless these guys in the room knew they were going to get their little suitcases.
  • They had so much fucking money in there, you could build a house outta stacks of $100 bills. And the best part was, that upstairs, the board of directors didn't know what the fuck was going on. I mean, to them, everything looked on the up-and-up, right? Wrong! The guys inside the counting room were all slipped in there to skim the joint dry. They'd do short counts. They'd lose fill slips. They'd even take cash right outta the drop boxes. And it was up to this guy right here, standing in front of about 2 million dollars, to skim the cash off the top, without anybody getting wise — the IRS, or anybody. Now, notice how in the count room, nobody ever seems to see anything. Somebody's always looking the other way. Now look at these guys. They look busy, right? They're counting money. Who'd want to bother them? I mean, God forbid they should make a mistake and forget to steal. Meanwhile, you're in and you're out, past the jack-off guard, who gets an extra C note a week just to watch the door. I mean, it's routine, business as usual — in, out, hello, goodbye — and that's all there is to it. Just another fat fuck, walking out of the casino with a suitcase. Now that suitcase was going straight to one place: right to Kansas City, which was as close to Las Vegas as the Midwest bosses could go without getting themselves arrested. That suitcase was all the bosses ever wanted, and they wanted it every month.
  • [about Anthony Dogs' interrogation] To be truthful with you, I had to admire this fucking guy. He was one of the toughest Irishmen I ever met. This son-of-a-bitch was tough. For two days and two fucking nights, we beat the shit out of this guy. I mean, we even stuck ice picks in his balls, but he never talked. In the end, I had to put his fucking head in a vise.
  • Listen to me, Anthony. I got your head in a fucking vise. I'll squash your fucking head like a grapefruit if you don't give me a name. Don't make me have to do this, please. Don't make me be a bad guy; come on.
  • Charlie M? Charlie M? You make me pop your fucking eye out of your head to protect that piece of shit? Charlie M? You dumb motherfucker!
  • I think that you've gotten the wrong impression about me. I think, in all fairness, I should explain to you exactly what it is that I do. For instance, tomorrow morning I'll get up nice and early, take a walk down over to the bank, walk in and see and uh, if you don't have my money for me, I'll crack your fucking head wide open in front of everybody in the bank. And just about the time that I'm coming out of jail, hopefully, you'll be coming out of your coma. And guess what? I'll split your fucking head open again, 'cause I'm fucking stupid. I don't give a fuck about jail. That's my business. That's what I do. And we know what you do, don't we, Charlie? You fuck people out of money and get away with it. Hey, you fat Irish prick, you put my fucking money to sleep. You go get my money or I'll put your fucking brain to sleep!
  • You know I'm trying to put something really big together out here. You know what I'm talking about, huh? You know! If you're acting like this now, how can I depend on you?
  • You know, I don't wanna bring this up, but you've been treating a lot of people with a lot of disrespect, even your own wife.
  • [Watching the FBI plane overhead while golfing] What the fuck is this? Where's this fucking guy gonna land, in the fairway? They're fucking agents, Frankie, look at this! $100 for whoever hits the plane.
  • [Chewing out Sam in the Nevada desert] You said I'm bringing heat on you? I gotta listen to people because of your fucking shit?! You're ordering me out? You better get your own fucking army, pal!
  • [Chewing out Sam in the Nevada desert] Get this through your head, you Jew motherfucker, you! You only exist out here because of me! That's the only reason! Without me, you, personally - every fucking wiseguy skell around will take a piece of your fucking Jew ass! Then where you gonna go? You're fucking warned! Don't ever go over my fucking head again, you motherfucker, you!
  • I used to send Marino back home with a piece of what I made. Not a big piece, but what did they know? They were 1,500 miles away, and I don't know anyone who can see that far.
  • [After Andy Stone is murdered by two men as he is walking to his car] As much as they liked him, he wasn't one of us. He wasn't Italian. As far as they knew, he could've talked. Otherwise, Stoney might still be alive. The first one to skip was John Nance. He found a nice warm secluded place in Costa Rica. He thought nobody would find him there, but then his kid got nabbed by the Feds for drugs. And so, naturally, the bosses were afraid he'd come out of hiding just to save his kid and give 'em all up. So... [The same two men come behind a bleeding John Nance and shoot him in the head] But anyway they, you know, they all had to follow. Everybody went down. Before you knew it, anybody who knew anything wound up getting whacked.
  • It took months for everything to calm down. But finally, my guys got out on bail and the bosses wanted me to send my brother Dominick out to Vegas. Always the dollars. Always the fucking dollars. I mean, it was still way too hot for me to even go near Vegas, so I set up a meeting with the guys way out in the sticks. I didn't want my brother to get fucked around. I mean, what's right is right. They don't give a fuck about— [Frankie hits him from behind with a baseball bat]

Paige Novodor[edit]

  • Good evening, everyone. I'm Paige Novodor. What should've been a routine licensing hearing turned into bedlam yesterday when the flamboyant Tangiers Casino executive, Sam "Ace" Rothstein, accused the state's top gaming officials of corruption and hypocrisy. In a wild and unprecedented outburst that followed his gaming license denial, Rothstein followed several stunned commissioners into the hallway, where he continued his harangue until his own lawyers and friends urged him to leave. Long suspected of running the Tangiers without a gaming license, yesterday's hearing was to determine whether someone with Rothstein's checkered personal history was qualified to officially hold a top gaming post.


Commissioner Webb: Mr. Rothstein, you people never will understand the way it works out here. You're all just our guests, but you act like you're at home. Let me tell you something, partner: you ain't home, but that's where we're gonna send you if it harelips the Governor. Thank you for your time.


Sam "Ace" Rothstein (narrating): Before I ever ran a casino or got myself blown up, Ace Rothstein was a hell of a handicapper, I can tell you that. I was so good that when I bet, I can change the odds for every bookmaker in the country. I'm serious. I had it down so cold that I was given paradise on earth. I was given one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas to run: the Tangiers, by the only kind of guys that can get you that kind of money. Sixty-two million seven hundred thousand dollars. I don't know all the details.
Nicky Santoro (narrating): Matter of fact, nobody knew all the details. But it should have been perfect. I mean he had me, Nicky Santoro, his best friend, watching his ass. And he had Ginger, the woman he loved, on his arm. But in the end, we fucked it all up. It should have been so sweet, too. But it turned out to be the last time that street guys like us were ever given anything that fuckin' valuable again.

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