Directed by Robert Altman. Written by Joseph Walsh.
The art of making male friendships is curious discipline, and in the age of male loneliness, movies about how uncanny relationships are formed deserve to have their day. Reaching back almost 50 years, California Split is such a movie, where a novice gambler and a degenerate pro strike a bond over the thrill of success-by-chance.
Bill Denny, played by George Segal, is a writer by trade, but one night he’s at the poker table trying his luck. He wins a punch in the face and he crawls away from the table on all fours. The punch was thrown on suspicions Bill was in cahoots with another man at the table (he wasn’t), and later, at the bar, as Bill holds cold beers to his aching face, his supposed accomplice happens to take a seat next to him. Beers, beers, and beers later, they’re chums.
Charlie, played by Elliot Gould, will gamble on just about anything. From cards, to horses, to dogs, to betting Bill he can name all seven dwarves for $20. He’s good at it, or at least seems to be, and with his larger-than-life personality and confident stride, Bill’s naturally drawn under his wing. As he leans into the fly-by-night lifestyle, Bill realizes it’s not all fun and games, however.
California Split is fiction, but feels more real than the fly-on-the-wall mannerisms of cinema verité. Slap the top of California Split, and plumes of bake-in cigarette smoke swirl out. The smell of polyester sweat lingers in everyone’s wake and if you pause any frame of Altman’s movie and take in the setting, it has depth and detail. Add to that his trademark free-flowing sense for dialogue, and you have slice-of-life filmmaking that feels as natural as breathing.
And what a slice of life! From dimly-lit go-go bars, through the horse racing tracks, to the casinos of Reno, the places in which California Split moves are their own gritty attractions. Altman shoots a great many of his scenes with medium- and long shots, taking in the entire stage, which has as much to offer the action as what’s said between the characters. Contrast that to movies that favor close-up exchanges in nondescript locales, and California Split feels lived-in and enveloping.
With Denny and Gould, you’re in good company too. Gould is a scene-stealer, boisterous and exuberant like a grown boy who feels he knows all the angles (he often does). Denny is all of us, a little timid and trying to get by, stuck in the rut of our own making and therefore easily lured in by the liberating thrill of tagging along with someone very different from ourselves who nonetheless promise to take care of us if we just follow along. The giddy excitement is palpable, and while Denny’s straight-guy act must take second chair next to Gould’s showman performance, he’s also Altman’s emotional anchor as the outsider everyman who ultimately stares down the existential realities of chasing the dragon across felt tabletops.
Before that, however, there’s an odd friendship. One seemingly borne out of happenstance and kept together seemingly just by choice and the gravity of good times. It appears light, rewarding, and despite the tension of high-stakes gambling, mutually supportive. Even if it is borne from vice and possible fool’s gold, there’s a fleeting moment of envy to be felt watching Charlie and Bill wheel through California Split with an arm slung over the other’s shoulders.
Mikkel Frederiksen 