5 minute read
The Card Counter is a bold account of
from The Ontarion - 191.2
by The Ontarion
Don’t let The Card Counter’s fun title fool you. This stunning work of cinematography delves into the horrors of war and revenge. CREDIT: FOCUS FEATURES
The Card Counter is a bold account of one man’s reckoning with atonement
Paul Schrader forces us to grapple with America’s wartime legacies and the bleak nature of atonement
PRABHJOT BAINS
Sooner or later, we all encounter a forceful rush of guilt that reminds us of a bad choice we made.
It’s a stark and harrowing feeling coming to terms with the mistakes we’ve made during our lives and pondering the eternal question of “what if.” There are people who walk among us everyday harbouring the painful memory of committing something truly horrible. But how do you atone for a sin that is utterly unforgivable? That is the central question that The Card Counter seeks to address.
With that kind of title, it’s hard to blame the average theatregoer for believing they’re in for a fun romp, focusing on the escapades of a sly but charming gambler. But, being directed by 75-year-old virtuoso Paul Schrader, who is known for making challenging, cold, and nihilistic cinema, they can expect the opposite.
After penning one of the greatest scripts of all time, Taxi Driver (1976), and one of the best films of the last decade, First Reformed (2018), Schrader brings us another dire, contemplative, and captivating character study. This time around, he creates an experience that is not only focused on the character at hand, but also a reflection on the legacies of America’s “War on Terror” which began 20 years ago this month with the 9/11 attacks.
The Card Counter follows William Tell (Oscar Isaac), a professional gambler who learned to count cards during a 10-year stint in prison. Tell is a man of conviction who follows his routine religiously. He travels the country playing blackjack at various casinos, always winning, but not winning big, as he understands that casinos will catch on if his pile of chips gets too large. However, the most significant part of his routine is when he checks into his nightly motel and wraps his entire room in vast amounts of white canvas, echoing an interrogation room. But who is the suspect? Well, it’s Tell, as he opens up a bottle of whiskey and spills his thoughts into a notebook in an almost too-perfect cursive script. It is through these confessionals that we see the world through his intimidating and weary eyes, learning that he was a military interrogator at Abu Ghraib, abusing Iraqi nationals accused of terror activities in the most heinous ways imaginable.
Tell paid for the crimes he committed with the prison sentence he served, but he can’t find a way to atone for them personally as he proclaims “nothing, nothing can justify what we did.” So, he plays cards to pass the time and to avoid the day he finally decides to take his own life. During his travels he meets La Linda (Tiffany Hadish) who hopes to back him in a poker tournament and who he ultimately falls in love with. However, he eventually meets Cirk (Tye Sheridan) who is the son of a fellow soldier who was at Abu Ghraib with Tell and committed suicide after struggling to cope with his war time actions. Cirk wants revenge on a Major, John Gordo (Willem Dafoe), who led much of the interrogation effort but saw none of the punishment that Cirk’s father and Tell endured.
While this dual narrative of high-stakes poker and revenge could easily collapse on itself, Schrader weaves them seamlessly in such a way that they both serve each other, building up to a climax that is utterly fitting as it rewards us with further ideas to ruminate on. The experience is one that is undoubtedly not for everyone as it’s a slow burn, typical of a Schrader film, and one that leans into the misery inherent in the characters’ thoughts and motivations. Furthermore, it forces us to come to terms with the legacy America created during its ill-fated “War on Terror.” Yet this is a reality we must live with, and finding the ability to atone for the past defines what it is to be human.
Schrader’s direction and screenplay are impeccable, leading us to believe The Card Counter is a tale that only filmmaking could bring to life, and that is what great cinema accomplishes. It presents a narrative that no other medium could deliver in such a visually striking way, and it makes this critic remember why he loves the cinematic form, especially amid this lingering pandemic.
While Schrader’s direction and writing are a delight, Alexander Dynan’s cinematography cements this film as one of the year’s best. He constructs poker scenes in a way that is utterly
engaging and fascinating. Every card flick and clatter of chips is made enrapturing with his detailed staging as his slowly crawling close-ups and pans build up the existential dread and trauma of the story. The photography, paired with Schrader’s powerful dialogue, makes every scene that much more poignant. This great synergy of cinematography and writing is a testament to the film’s staying power as it will have you thinking about it for days on end.
The performances serve the story well, but the greatest one comes from Isaac, whose stoic posture, weary eyes, and confident narration help paint a greater picture of not only Tell’s existential quandary, but the film’s thematic ambitions as well. This will go down as one of Isaac’s greatest performances of his career, and it serves a film that is hell-bent on probing not only its viewers, but also America’s wartime legacy. It’s a timely film that is only made better by Isaac’s confident and arresting portrayal of atonement and redemption.
On the twentieth anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks, The Card Counter makes it even more clear that the sins of our enemies cannot be quelled with sin in return.
