Recently Criterion Channel has been running a collection of movies about gamblers. It’s always a fun subgenre so I decided to check it out. And as I watched, appropriately, The Gambler, it occurred to me that this kind of story lays bare the elementals of storytelling in an incredibly accessible fashion. It honestly felt like a bolt of inspiration when I saw it.
None of what I’m about to lay out here is new. But watching The Gambler helped crystalize a lot of bits of screenwriting that had been abstract for me. I hope by sharing this insight, it’ll do the same for you.
Getting Back to the Greeks
Western drama is largely built off of the foundation of Greek theater. Specifically, Aristotle’s Poetics, which worked to define the mechanics of drama. It’s from this school of thought that we have terms like Protagonist and Catharsis.
We also get Hamartia, the root idea for a character’s tragic flaw. It is the thing both driving them forward and leading to the inevitable downfall. In a tragedy, especially, the character is only able to recognize this flaw in themselves too late, when they can no longer prevent their fate.
These are concepts that still exist in the world of storytelling today. As we often say on this site, it’s not the only way to tell a story, but it is a pretty effective one. There’s a reason this mode of thought has survived for thousands of years.
The Tragedy of the Gambler
Movies about gamblers perfectly articulate the idea of the tragic flaw in very clear terms. The character’s flaw is there in the subgenre’s name – they have a need to gamble. To risk everything and pursue the high of winning.
This flaw then drives the plot. The circumstances of the movie that the character lands in comes about because of their gambling. And every time they have a chance to get out or walk away, they instead dig themselves even deeper because they must gamble more. They literally double down on their problems because of their flaw.
Finally they reach a crisis point. They lose everything thanks to their bets. A reckoning with their flaw is forced. The character either learns the lesson and successfully walks away when again presented with the opportunity – a final, dramatic test that demonstrates their growth – or in a tragedy they cannot resist doubling down again, even though they know the cost, and are destroyed for it.
The Hustler. California Split. The Gambler. Rounders. Mississippi Grind. Uncut Gems. Just a few of the examples that all use this same basic storytelling model. But that doesn’t make them bad movies, far from it. Instead it makes them visceral demonstrations of a universal truth echoing across millennia of western culture. The follies of man, laid bare.
Going All In
But the lessons don’t end there. Yes, these movies articulate the character flaw in a beautiful and clear fashion. But plenty of stories do that. What makes the gambler movie as a subgenre such a great specimen of screenwriting is how it tells that story and dramatizes the character’s flaw.
The act of gambling checks off so many cinematic boxes. It’s always high stakes – we’re watching someone who could lose it all or win it all. And when they win, and then double down, now the stakes have just grown. Escalation, built right into the structure of the game.
It’s simultaneously immediate – hands and bets resolve in moments – but capable of great tension in the seconds leading up to resolution. This matches the pacing and build of so much modern moviemaking. A decision is made – the die literally cast, in some places – we check in with the interested players, the cards in motion, the ball tumbling – and then either success or failure. Each bet is its own mini-sequence of tension and release.
Speaking of the players – gambling is a contest of wills where the battlefield is entirely the character’s face. The screen loves a close-up of an actor, and there are so many opportunities in a gambling movie to zero in on your lead as they weigh their options, commit to a choice, and then live or die by the result. For a good actor it becomes a showcase role.
The Takeaway
I want to emphasize again that this is not the only way to tell a story. You can completely ignore the Greeks and Western dramatic tradition and still write a great screenplay. But this is a tried and true way to tell a good story, or at least have the foundation of one.
And for me, the gambler movie made clear these dramatic ideals in a way that so many other stories had not. Because of the subgenre’s intense focus on the protagonist’s flaw and its use of that flaw to drive the story, it beautifully demonstrates how to make sure your protagonist’s agency is rooted in their problem – a problem that will either destroy them or give them the chance at salvation.