1995 / Martin Scorsese > There is no Henry Hill in Casino, and that kills it. Scorsese had a hook in Goodfellas with Ray Liotta’s Hill as a guy you could cheer for. Someone caught up in the shebang and rightfully taking advantage of it. Someone you could like. But this three hour long venture finds Joe Pesci another despicable gangster to play, but one that isn’t counter-balanced. Throw in the working girl-cum-druggie, deceitful wife in Sharon Stone’s Ginger and the scales just tip in ways from where there is no retribution. Why is that so troubling? Because this is, technically, a fantastic piece of work. The production may be one of the finest the director’s ever put on, and that’s why its mediocrity is so tragic. I just didn’t care about anyone. I needed my Henry Hill.