It might seem strange to mention gambling and Lee Kyung Hae, the South Korean farmer who killed himself at last week’s World Trade Organization conference, in a column about a prime-time TV series. But I was still struck by the dramatic nature of his public suicide when I watched a preview tape of Las Vegas, a new NBC drama that premieres Monday. Suddenly, these divergent topics all came together.
I’ve never understood the allure of gambling. It’s not a moral thing, it just seems easier to throw my money into the middle of the street than to stuff it in a slot machine. Still, there was something about Las Vegas that startled me, particularly since it opens with the image of a discarded corpse in the desert. But there’s no time for explanation as the camera dashes off to the seductive glitz of the Vegas strip.
Unlike the inexplicably canceled Lucky, Las Vegas focuses on the high rollers and the casinos that court them. Among them are a homeless man who cashes his social security check and begins to win big, and a man referred to as “the whale,” a regular customer the casino has flown in, only to discover that a “shark” from a rival casino has wooed him. So what does the offended casino do? They woo the customer back, along with an offer to the shark to join their staff.
Overseeing all of this is James Caan as an ex-CIA agent who now leads a high tech surveillance team for the casino. His underling and heir apparent is a young stud played by Josh Duhamel, whose active libido lands him in all kinds of trouble. In between, there are all the excesses the strip provides, and, in the premiere episode, an attempt to snag an elusive cheater.
This world is topsy-turvy — a place where working girls are called escorts, where a brother with a master’s in engineering happily works as a valet (because he makes more money, we’re told), and a homeless man can have macaroni and cheese served to him in a casino penthouse. This, I decide, is where the allure of Las Vegas — the city and the series — lies. The idea that one can skip the sweat of pulling yourself up by the proverbial bootstraps and go straight to the privilege of having someone in white gloves serve you comfort food.
Nowadays, I think most ordinary U.S.-born folks dream for their big break, their chance to streak toward the big payday. Las Vegas taps into this desire. And it seems that only more people are willing to barter humility and pride for a chance at a quick million and airtime.
But what does this have to do with Lee Kyung Hae? Nothing and everything. Were the creators of Las Vegas intending it as a metaphor for how class and privilege operate in the U.S.? I doubt it, but what a delicious and creepy coincidence.
At the end of the series premiere, our young protagonist encourages the bum on the winning streak to leave while he’s on top. He refuses at first, but once his winnings whittle down to a mere $40,000, he gives in. We’re supposed to think our main character has done a good thing. But the reality is, the street bum will never be on top. This is the whale’s world, not his. His best hope is to end up like that corpse in the desert with enough money in his pocket to bury him. Bystanders can then lament, if only he weren’t his worst enemy — much like the popular press has written off Lee Kyung Hae as a crazed protester instead of one of legions of farmers being squashed under the weight of U.S.- and EU-subsidized agribusiness.
Lee Kyung Hae’s story may never be fully told in mainstream U.S. press, making it easier to write him off as a kook and troublemaker. Next week, Las Vegas promises to reveal who that corpse in the desert is. If only real life could imitate the dramatic demands of a prime-time TV series. What a topsy-turvy world that would be.
Worth Watching
Part documentary, part poetry reading, part visual tribute to the power of words, Ray Santisteban‘s extraordinary Voices From Texas celebrates the work of Tejano writers including Carmen Tafolla, Sandra Cisneros, raulrsalinas, and Tammy Gomez. Santisteban has an obvious respect for language, reflected in his ability to create artful images to celebrate the spoken words. A feast for the eyes, ears, and spirit. Voices From Texas airs Sept. 26 at 10pm on KLRU.
And Finally —
The 55th annual Emmy Awards ceremony airs Sunday, Sept. 21, at 7pm on Fox.This article appears in September 19 • 2003.