Matthew Percefull
Sporting events have always been a central part of human civilization. Sports provide community, entertainment, and a safe way to let off some steam. There’s something nice about the idea of a physical, human competition in a world where everything can be bought or controlled. Even people who don’t follow closely enjoy the company (and snacks) that a watch party or attending a game can bring. We’ve all seen how much a big win can mean to a city with the New York Knicks’ recent finals win. What happens when the corruption and violence of our world bleeds into what was supposed to be an escape from it? Brian De Palma’s 1998 boxing thriller, Snake Eyes, explores this question in a surprisingly timeless manner.
In typical De Palma fashion, Snake Eyes is full of twists. It’s riveting to watch Santoro piece things together, even when the “reveal” is pretty obvious. This isn’t your regular whodunnit that relies on a shocking twist to be satisfying; it’s the moral conundrum that De Palma puts his characters through that makes Snake Eyes such a fun watch. It’s characteristically slick and contains some political commentary that wasn’t appreciated in its time. It was largely written off as a stylish but forgettable addition to De Palma’s filmography; I happen to think it’s one of his smartest films.
Snake Eyes follows Rick Santoro (Nicolas Cage) as he attends a boxing match gone terribly wrong. When the defense secretary is shot right in front of him, he teams up with his childhood friend and Navy Commander, Kevin Dunne (Gary Sinise), to catch the killer. The entire film takes place inside the stadium (and the connected casino), which gives it a claustrophobic, tense atmosphere throughout.
Santoro is stuck between doing the moral thing and remaining loyal to the system that caused this tragedy. The first act does a great job at setting up Santoro’s arc. At first glance, he comes across as a sleaze ball. He’s loud, the type of guy to answer a phone call loudly in public. One of his first pieces of dialogue that we hear consists of bragging about cheating on his wife. We even see him abusing his authority in an early scene. These early interactions make us wary of him throughout. We watch as he digs up the truth, but we have no idea how he will react to it. The deeper he goes into this conspiracy, the more his humanity is revealed.
Snake Eyes features one of Nicolas Cage’s best performances. He oozes cool in this film while still delivering flashes of the zaniness he’s known for. He bounces off of Sinise’s silent manipulation perfectly. The script doesn’t have to outright explain the nature of their relationship, but they drop enough gems that you can easily piece it together. It’s obvious that these men both entered their respective institutions searching for something and came out with different results. Santoro accepts the corruption that’s rampant in the police force as just a part of the job, but still ultimately believes in their ability to help people. On the other side of things, Dunne sees this corruption as an opportunity for power. In Dunne’s worldview, there’s nothing you can do but join in on the debauchery. By the end, both men’s worldviews are proven wrong.
The way that politics and sports intersect in this film is creepily reminiscent of what’s happening today in America. The way that government officials are paraded around this boxing match mirrors Donald Trump’s close relationship with the UFC and his recent controversial appearances at the Super Bowl and NBA finals. The film also touches on topics like nuclear warfare, public assassinations, and the demonization of the Palestinian people, which have mostly grown more dire since 1998. While Snake Eyes is entrenched in 90s culture, these connections make it feel more relevant today than ever. Sports and politics are starting to seem like the only remaining monocultures in America, so I understand the crossover. I’m concerned that it will just accelerate the degradation already present in both. Based on Snake Eyes, I’d say Brian De Palma shared this fear.
Sports betting was certainly rampant in the 1990s, but the version of it we’re seeing today is completely unprecedented. It’s not just sports betting anymore; you can throw your life savings away betting on anything from the weather to a local election. Snake Eyes depicts sports betting as a dangerous world that opens the door to even more violence. It’s not the cause of what’s happening, just the introduction, but a horrifying one nonetheless. It shows that something we deem pure, like competition, can be diluted by money and power.
Snake Eyes, ultimately, is a story about a man who has become disillusioned with the institution he is loyal to and chooses his humanity again. Santoro doesn’t behave the way he does because he’s an outright bad guy; he’s just doing what he’s seen society reward. It’s when the stakes become dire that his true colors start to show, and he softens a bit. Whistleblower and analyst Julia Costello (Carla Gugino) is the human representation of his face turn. It’s almost like her and Dunne act as the Angel and Devil on Santoro’s shoulders. She puts herself in a dangerous situation just to save some lives. When the film switches to her perspective, it becomes a horror film as she hides from Dunne in a crowded casino. Her eventual conversation with Santoro is the final part of his evolution as a character. She’s an example of doing the right thing, even if it harms you in the long run.
De Palma has always been known for his camera movement, and even though this may be considered a lesser work, De Palma doesn’t miss a step in that regard. The camera is investigating this case alongside our characters. I love the shot that goes through multiple hotel rooms as Costello plots her escape. Filmmaking choices like that add flavor to an already chewy mystery. The boxing match that frames this film is nothing short of spectacular. De Palma shows you the match and shooting from multiple different perspectives. The first time it happens, the camera never even pans towards the ring. The entire thing is pointed at Santoto and other members of the crowd as they react to the chaos. The scene is full of kinetic energy that only a master like De Palma can truly pull off.
An underappreciated part of Snake Eyes is the character of Lincoln Tyler (Stan Shaw), the boxer whose fixed fight is the catalyst for the shooting. Tyler is a tragic figure. Once a world champion boxer, he now has to throw fights to make ends meet. I love the scene where he recounts the rigged boxing match. His voice is pained while he narrates. Each time he’s forced to eat a hit from his opponent, you can see the anger build in his face. He’s constantly one move away from ditching the entire plan and just dropping his opponent. His body is trying to reject the inauthenticity that ultimately wins out. Even though Tyler is somewhat complicit in what happens, it’s hard to blame him for any of it. Despite his eventual beatdown of Santoro at the order of Dunne, Tyler is deeply conflicted about his place in this conspiracy. Unfortunately, he chooses a payout over integrity. In a perfect world, this would be an unthinkable decision. In Lincoln Tyler’s world, it may have been the only sensible one. Athletes become pawns to this system, even the great ones. Lincoln Tyler is a haunting reminder of that.
The ending of Snake Eyes was originally supposed to feature a giant CGI hurricane. The plan was to use similar technology as the film Twister (1996) to simulate massive tidal waves. The scene was even shot and shown to test audiences, who largely rejected the chaotic ending to an otherwise patient thriller. It was eventually changed, a decision that De Palma never seemed fully on board with. The storm is still heavily teased throughout the film, despite fizzling out by the end. Snake Eyes even opens with a weather report from outside the stadium, warning of the potential threat. Though accidental, I do like some of the subtext that the lack of the hurricane brings. The hurricane is a looming threat that keeps us on our toes. When Dunne’s plan is foiled and the real threat is dealt with, the hurricane ceases to be a problem as well. It may sound more anticlimactic than a huge fight in the middle of a storm, but it certainly works for the story being told.
The ending that we do get is also somewhat hopeful, which is rare for both De Palma and the genre of political thrillers. Dunne’s death represents a reset for our characters and lifts the tension for a bit. Santoro and Costello don’t save the world or end corruption for good, but they were able to find solace in each other. The film concludes with the message that, even if you can’t change the world, you can at least change yourself. Though we eventually see the media tear him apart, which is probably deserved. But on that night, Santoro did the right thing despite his best interests. Does that count for anything?
