It has been stated that nothing changes in this tragic drama film. That because we find meaning in a story from the change in values between the beginning and the end, and the reason for that change, that there is no change in Leaving Las Vegas and therefore no meaning.
I disagree. A man, Ben (Nicolas Cage) sets out to drink himself to death and nothing sways him from this course. What changes is that he begins his journey alone and ends it no longer alone, perhaps in love. But either way, no longer alone. That is a change, and a profound one.
There is also one other, I noticed in my most recent watching of this film. He begins his journey intent on killing himself, and in the end he finally achieves his goal. That also is a change, the difference between the wanting and the doing. And I think even the character changes over the course of the movie. That he is never swayed from his decision, just makes it a truer story, not less of a story. And certainly not without meaning.
A portrait, as portraits go, this is a beautiful picture of a man falling. Into the bottom of his bottle.
At some point, self-abuse of any kind becomes uncomfortable for other people – socially unacceptable. The kind where you only do it on the weekends, or the evenings is fine. Everybody does it, that’s the secret. But when you start to become too obvious. Lose sight of the facade. Disturbing other people’s conservative day jobs, the daily grind and threaten to give the game away. Then it’s time to politely get rid of you.
Sera (Elisabeth Shue) is a prostitute. She approaches her work as a film actor would prepare for a role. She becomes the fantasy that they desire, she can be what they wish for. And she’s good at it. And she knows it. Her pimp, Uri (Julian Sands) is a scary guy – and not always on hand to protect her.
Vegas is the place to do it. Ben hires Sera for a night to keep him company. They end up just drinking and talking. The binge drinking will eventually make him useless sexually, well half useless. But she doesn’t care about that.
They become friends. It could only happen in Vegas. This is the romantic side of suicide and the sexy side of Vegas. The film catptures the purity of the emotional persona of Las Vegas, with all the dirty trimmings.
Sera talks things over with a psychiatrist in confessional tapes.
She meets Ben at a time when her pimp is paranoid and needs money. So he is less forgiving when she returns with less than a night’s work worth of cash. Uri, the pimp, is being hunted by his people so he lets Sera go.
And so Ben and Sera go out for dinner.
We see so many things – hints of ghosts of the charming screenwriter Ben used to be – before the drinking took over his life.
“You can never, ever ask me to stop drinking.”
This film is as much about the city of Las Vegas as it is about Ben’s journey towards death. It’s a city that doesn’t sleep, pause, give in, judge you – but it does forgive.
The city is a place like no other. A place, the third lead character in the film. It beckons to the rejected ones, the sick, the leftover people. The ones that can’t fall in line and conform to the tidy, neat little non-dodgy, conservative nine-til-five day jobs. The non-working class. That day job that watches with luminescent lights, to see if you’re shaking too much, smoking too much, thinking too much, talking too much, laughing too much, dancing too much, enjoying too much. If you are imagining too much, creating too much, trying too hard.
Sera and Ben, the happy couple, they say nasty things to each other as they struggle to negotiate their lives around their unorthodox relationship. Two crusty demons justifiably and consensually stranded in the desert.
There is a reason some people are stone cold cruel. Because if they weren’t, there are those who would take advantage.
Hearts will be broken. As they do in a tragedy. This is inevitable. People are broken repeatedly. This is Vegas. Home to the homeless, the defeated, the lost and alone. Where can she go, when Vegas doesn’t love her back? Only to him.
4.5 stars
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