63. Croupier

Believe it or not, this dark, challenging piece of cinematic skullduggery received scant attention in the United Kingdom and Germany, the countries where it was made, but earned a cult following when it came to America. Sadly, weak home video distribution may return it to an undeserved obscurity.

In its brief 94 minutes, Croupier deftly breaks dozens of cinematic rules and poses some fundamental questions about how people view risk and its consequences. In the role that established him as a performer to watch Clive Owen (Gosford Park, Beyond Borders) stars as Jack Manfred, a blocked writer who takes a job as a croupier when his attempted novel stalls.

Jack gets a kick watching the punters destroy themselves by testing the odds. He considers himself above them, but Owen's expressive eyes in his seemingly impassive face frequently indicate that a very human and vulnerable heart beats under Jack's tuxedo.

On the surface, little seems to happen. Despite once shocking viewers with the violence in 1971's Get Carter, director Mike Hodges imbues Croupier with a constant sense of tension despite the fact that there's almost no onscreen violence. Instead, he paints a disorienting atmosphere using mirrored walls, exaggerated sound effects, and odd camera angles. His casino seems like a region of Hell that Dante somehow missed.

Despite the film's primarily focus on Jack, screenwriter Paul Mayersberg creates three of the most intriguing female characters in recent memory. Gina McKee, Kate Hardy and Alex Kingston play three women in Jack's life who prove to be smarter and more complicated than the croupier imagines. Mayersberg also loads the film with intriguing story twists and pens that rarest of entities: eerily witty voiceover narration that actually works.

With its condescending hero and deliberately unresolved plot points, Croupier shouldn't work but effortlessly beats the odds. (Dan Lybarger)