california split

the all-american platonic male gambling romance

a friendship blooms after two men meet at a poker table, bond over drinks, and drunkenly attempt to name the seven dwarfs. while dark, the film stays lively, thanks to the riotous male bonding of juvenility. but nevertheless, the underbelly of the gambling world is sure to reveal itself more and more as the film progresses.

elliott gould (charlie) is the con-man, that’s his job. by day he is going to the racetrack or hustling kids on the basketball court and by night he’s playing poker. he’s meant for this life and wears it well. in many of gould’s roles throughout the 70s, he’s able to confidently wear his idiosyncrasies; no matter how ridiculous a lifestyle it may be, its his and you end up admiring it, respecting it. as an actor, elliott thrived throughout the decade, the best roles of his career coming from robert altman. he embodied the wayward attitude of the nation, able to go from comedy to drama to bubbly to heavy without changing his infliction in the slightest. with his specific and identifiable cadence, he’s able to bounce seamlessly between tones, ultimately radiating empathy. today adam driver does this well (or let’s say a decade ago i.e. girls), along with vince vaughn (swingers probably being the best example — while he’s never gotten very good opportunities for drama the ability is obviously there). with their tone ultimately maintaining sincerity, even their wry, absurdist wordplay is treated as such, creating a character that stands out as fully three dimensional, as everything they feel is consistently on display.

george segal played slap happy and befuddled well (esp. in the 60s and 70s, see Born to Win, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?). he embodied characters whose tie loosens more and more, endangering the wheels from falling off. in california split he plays william, a writer currently separated from his wife. william’s addiction grows deeper and deeper but stays on the back burner to his new budding friendship with charlie. he finds himself in charlie’s world, eating cereal poured by the prostitutes charlie lives with, putting shaving cream on his wound and then taking a nap on their shabby couch because his car is out of reach from the night before. william finds himself in very specific situations that feel almost as wake up calls — portraits of desperation — you see him look around and breathe heavily at where he’s ended up — knowing this isn’t his world, this is charlie’s world.

the movie gets caught up with these two and their friendship (love affair) — held together by gambling, their love of winning money, the rush of being correct, beating the system and finding a loophole. when they win, which they often find themselves doing, we feel their euphoria. going through something like this (winning money) albeit a brief period of time, makes the two seem like lifelong friends. they are childlike together, as if they’d known each other since adolescence. the fact that the other brings that out of them keeps the relationship exciting — or is it winning money?

there’s one scene in which charlie returns from being m.i.a. for a while, william not knowing where he’d gone, and subsequently being a little frustrated — they were on a heater after all. charlie surprises him wearing a sombrero and holding a stuffed parrot, explaining that he had to go on a (gambling) trip to mexico after awaking from a dream.

“don’t you think i would’ve like to have gone?”

“you weren't in the dream, william. my parrot was in the dream, though.”

william explains how he’s going to tijuana for a high stakes poker game he’s heard about — he needs to at this point. charlie stays light, trying to curb william’s frustration, ultimately doing his impression of a “one armed piccolo player”. he asks for an applause and when he bows he hands his piccolo off to his finger which is sticking out of his unzipped pants. catching william (and the audience) off guard, he can’t stop laughing, a genuine cackle, making us do the same. proud at making his friend laugh again, charlie asks if he needs a partner for his trip. yes, he immediately exhales. it plays like a love scene, or rather a scene of two people in which the good always outweighs the bad. these two really love each other, i thought the last time i watched it. it’s a delightful scene that replays in my head often, portrays what is alive between them in the moment, and sets us up perfectly for its staggering ending.

and we can’t talk about a robert altman movie without giving bob his flowers. a filmmaking savant on the 1970s, always mentioned behind flashier names. in california split and many of his other films, he makes the process look easy, seemingly going unnoticed. he creates an environment of trust and understanding, gives the actors room, knows where to put the camera, and how to alter sound to affect the tension — the mumbles and shouts of gould along with the constant chatter from background characters. like movies of that time, split feels lived in, as if that world and those characters had been there long before and long after we eavesdropped on them for two hours. making these movies look effortless, which couldn’t be farther from the truth — the directing is reserved, authentic to the story, letting what is to be noticed the story itself, the gradual and organic progression and regressions of relationships.

this movie reminds me of pta’s the master (or maybe it’s the other way around) — two men who are were made for each other, but is there too much in the way to flourish long-term? a similar goal bonded over — but is that it? a misunderstanding, screenwriter joe walsh called it. what other films would fall into this category? creating a series of platonic male bonding. not bromance per se, something more, without homosexuality. children/high school and straight comedies don’t count either, so you can’t say stand by me, superbad, etc. well you can i guess, but these are my own rules i’ve put into place. once upon a time in hollywood does this well with its two leads. butch & sundance maybe. waking ned devine as an elderly example. jerry schatzberg’s scarecrow. elaine may’s mikey and nicky can be seen as a different angle to this i suppose. oh, the intouchables! ah and cassavetes’ husbands may be the best example of them all.

despite the undertones of sorrow, california split is an undiluted riot. a buddy comedy with a 70s filter of depravity and male savagery. it’s a cruel world, but it’s nice to have charlie and william along for the ride. right up to its ending — its instruments losing sync while maintaining hypnotic rhythms — creating as striking an exhale as you’ll ever see.

it didn’t mean a damn thing did it.