As Luck Would Have It: Horses, Humanity's Last Hope

"I have seen people profoundly changed simply by being in the proximity of horses. Their size, their virtue, their complicated nature bring out patience and respect. Don't be afraid of that Chester." 

                    "Afraid of what?" asks Ace.

                    "Of everything that can be."

On its shiny surface, Luck reads like a wise-guy revenge series. The Sopranos meets Guys and Dolls. The viewer is (in most cases) given just enough information to vaguely grasp Ace Bernstein's general plans for revenge with his former business partner Mike. The cornucopia of dysfunction at the track is merely background noise to the chess match between Ace and Michael. However, the exchange above between Ace (Dustin Hoffman) and Claire (Joan Allen) gets at the blood and marrow of the series. Redemption via animal. Horse's humanity to man. Why not? You've seen what happened on Super Tuesday. Horses may be humanity's last hope.

Milch veers from his pattern of building each episode around a signature race, and in chapter six blesses us with two. Although lacking the drama of previous races, the cinematography is outstanding. As someone who has literally watched a shit-ton of horse races, I'm stunned by how close Luck comes to getting the feel of a live horse race. Typically, sports re-creations in movies or television series are embarrassingly faux. Not so with Luck.

The degenerate bastards who comprise Foray Stables are forced to sweat through an "inquiry" in their horse Mon Gateau's race. One measure against blatant in-your-face crookedness in horse racing is the fact that each race is filmed, reviewed, and watched live by three stewards. Referees. A retirement gig of sorts for the more honest backside track officials. If they see something unfair, like a horse crossing over into another horse's path, cutting in line so to speak, they have the power to disqualify the offender. It's a heavy penalty for all involved, but it happens regularly. If you've spent anytime betting horses, you've either been victimized, or somehow less frequently it seems, benefited from a horse who gets taken down. It can turn a winning ticket into a loser, or vice-versa. Like officiating in any sport, the rulings seem inconsistent and spiteful. Not so much officials, these stewards, as they are Gods on Mt. Olympus with us as playthings. Leaving the results as-is for Mon Gateau seemed liked rare justice to me. For what it's worth, jockeys have the ability to throw a flag on the play by lodging a formal "objection" after the race. Objections are seen as less honest than inquiries. 

The second race of the episode featured Walter Smith's (Nick Nolte) Kentucky Derby contender Gettin' Up Morning. Getting Up Morning sets the track record for 1 mile at Santa Anita*. The real drama is the conniption fit that Nolte has when he sees the jockey use the whip on Getting Up Morning down the stretch. Why the bluster you ask? In the US, jockeys use the whip with about as much discretion and subtlety as Odd Future or LMFAO apply to the art of music. Horses get whipped because the jockey is bored, because the owner is in attendance, because the horse is drifting one way, because the horse is drifting the other way, and maybe because a 115 lb jockey whipping a 1500 lb horse can cause it to run faster. In Europe, whipping is much less prevalent, and tightly controlled by the stewards. Europe is pretty cool by most accounts. Nolte is likely chapped because he's painfully old school, cares about his horse (to be truthful, owners of big time stakes caliber horses aren't thrilled about seeing their million dollar investments whipped), and possibly because he wants to save that first time whipping a horse until it really needs the shock and awe it may provide. Legend has it that Affirmed bested his rival Alysheba in the 1978 Belmont stakes because jock Steve Cauthen threw a precious few left handed whips on Affirmed at a crucial point in the stretch drive. It was supposedly the first time Cauthen had whipped Affirmed on his left side.

*In reality, the 1 mile record at Santa Anita is held by Ruhlman, in a time of 1.33.25, which is a full second slower than Mon Gateau's time, or about 5 lengths.

I fucking love this series. I love the Miles Davis riffs that bubbled underneath some of the dark early scenes in this episode. I love seeing real life horse trainer Bob Baffert in background shots. I love Hall of Fame jockey Gary Stevens acting his ass off as the insufferable prick jock Ronnie. Thankfully, HBO has renewed for Season 2. I'm eager to see what happens when Luck gets some racing room and really hits its stride.

As Luck Would Have It: Staying with Pint of Plain

The fifth episode of Luck is heavy on character development and comparatively light on advancing the plot. That's not a complaint. The pleasure of hooking into a series like Luck comes from watching character background get revealed, and seeing quality actors chew their way through great lines. My favorite bit of dialogue occurred when Ace's bodyguard Gus became genuinely excited at the prospect of seeing "his" horse, Pint of Plain, run in a stakes race the following day. This is the same Gus who in episode one didn't know the difference between a horse head and a horse ass. An oblivious beard. Now, he's come full circle. He engaged in a bit of pre-race existential joy in typical Milch-speak:

"Tomorrow's gonna be a good day Ace. Big day. We step to the plate with a shot. You know who don't?"  

"Who?" Ace asks.

"Babe Ruth. The Babe don't step to the plate, or George Patton either. You know, because they're both dead. Tremendous ballplayer, tremendous general. But out of the picture completely. Whereas you and I, we get a good night sleep. We step to the plate."

The unsightly and decidedly worse dressed doppelganger to the Ace/Gus relationship is the one between the degenerate gamblers, in particular the bond between the gifted handicapper but shitty poker player Jerry, and the caustic wheelchair bound Marcus. A man so misanthropic, he ultimately confuses his concern for Jerry as a homosexual urge. Jerry's classic rejoinder: "Just because you're short on people skills doesn't make you a bone smoker." Crassly inelegant and elegant at the same time.

An emerging theme is the succor and redemption these characters from all walks of life discover in relationships with the horse. This is true to form in real life. Any handicapper worth his salt suffers from the cliched mythology between man and horse. The same goes for owners and trainers. You can't spend as much time with horses as track people do, without developing an abiding love for the characteristics horses so often project: courage, guts, beauty, endurance, loyalty.

In less skilled hands, it may play as maudlin, corny, or unintentionally funny that Ace's date, the criminally underused to this point Joan Allen (in a demure 180 degree turn from the preacher humper she played in The Ice Storm) is carted home by Gus at the end of their date. Ace prefers to spend the night with Pint of Plain in Escalante's stables. No doubt this deft touch is aided greatly by Luck head writer Bill Barich. Barich, author of the best horse racing book I've read, Laughing in the Hills, has a knack for plumbing the peculiar blend of redemption, romance, pain, and beauty that horse racing can provide. If you are a fan of the show, I'd heartily recommend finding Barich's book. Scratch that. If you are a fan of reading, check out Barich's book.

As usual, the racing scenes are superb. Pint of Plain is injured when a horse in front of him loses a shoe, and it ricochets back and catches Pint of Plain on his hind leg or "hock," gashing it to the bone. It happens. One of the miracles of the sport is that for their tremendous size and grace, horses are an extremely fragile breed. Cuts, nicks, and abrasions are fairly common and on the benign end of the continuum of calamity that horses face every time they take the track.

Matthew 21:22. "And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive." The big race from last week's episode.