Ignoring the glaring topicality of Robert De Niro’s devastating romantic appeal, the unparalleled production design, costume design, and editing, the hot-potato script and dual voiceover threads that dance like Rogers & Astaire across years in the stunning desolation of the sun-kissed, night-drenched heartbroken dream cemetery of early 80s Las Vegas—the fact that Sharon Stone lost the Oscar for her performance as Ginger McKenna to Susan Sarandon is a fucking stain.
