Walter (Nick Nolte) watches in wonder as "Luck" astonishes us in the last leg of its first, and final, season.

Cue the Boyz II Men, “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday.”

“Luck” was dealt a bad hand. Granted, the worst hands belonged to those majestic brutes whose lives were prematurely taken. And I will mourn every horse, every race I never get to see. It was through those powerful, fluid strides that a cast of characters were galvanized into taking risks of all kinds. Loving, killing, betting, praying and the like. And it is those same beautiful horses that have caused the series to cease to be. This is okay with me, because the show would have been, quite obviously, nothing without them. And so with a mesmerizing crane of Pint of Plain’s neck hanging out his stall, looking towards something of interest we’ll never see, I look to a diminished future where there’s no “Luck,” and yet I feel damn lucky to live in a present with that same “Luck” in my past.

Can we at least find solace knowing that its last hour was well spent? Yes, indeed. But in terms of narrative, the equally stressful question is can this season’s finale stand-in for a series ender? In many ways, it can. Your satisfaction will mostly depend upon your definition of resolution.

Mike and his cohorts still loom large over Ace and his dreams to buy the track, but he’s repairing his relationship with grandson, Brent, and opening up his heart to Claire. Our Four Amigos are rich once again with Marcus still the cynic and Jerry still a gambling addict, but both are keeping their tendencies in check. Walter? He holds onto his beloved horse, awaiting the next big race where Gettin’ Up will avenge the photo finish loss at the Western Derby. Escalante’s child dies in utero, but he holds Jo close anyhow as she becomes his family now—the one he only recently found out he wanted. Leon still has weight to lose before he can return, Rosie’s on top of the world, and Ronnie Jenkins falls just short, but hopefully not any further into his prescription pill abuse. Oh, and Joey’s still an agent searching for friends as vigorously as he is clients. In short, their world goes on without us, brimming with would-be’s and coulda-been’s, but whatever comes they’ll share in it. Because “Luck” prefers to view life as one big wager, and we’ve all put our contribution into the pot. And what we come out with will depend on how willing we are to throw our hearts in as well.

It’s peculiar that an HBO drama would end with such promise for what humankind can accomplish together. When the channel’s proudest products signed off with the (likely, never proven) death of its tragic mafioso (The Sopranos), and the continuing stranglehold of bureaucracy and the drug trade on an American city (The Wire), faith in tomorrow seems curious. But despite the avalanche of tension preceding the finish line, that’s how we cross it.

That menacing build-up began with the sudden appearance of Ace’s elusive grandson. Pain overtakes his face as he sees his loved one entering a world where his adversaries would love nothing more than to strike at his heart for striking at their wallets. The kid believes it was Gus who forwarded him a plane ticket to catch his gramp’s horse in the Western Derby, but it was Mike Smythe (Michael Gambon). Ace reacts with fear and anger by boarding up Brent in his penthouse, telling him he can watch the race on TV. From thereon, it’s a suspense-filled game of Dodging Death, as Gus helps him maneuver around his routine without being a sitting duck for hitmen. It’s a wonderful stroke of genius to include how Ace elects to continue with his schedule, despite how it will play into their hand, because of how it would disturb the balance he’s achieved in his life. And for the most part, the routine is not compromised. Through slight of hand, and one grueling, hand-to-hand Gus murder, Ace is able to slip by as his “guys” dispose of their “guys” and he makes it to the track. Dustin Hoffman plays the worn man well, showing how staying alert takes its toll, and further emphasizes the shift when at the end he’s at peace with his grandkid, even though the war with Mike rages on.

As far as the climactic races go, they’re both as gorgeous and enthralling as ever. The pre-Derby affair where our degenerate quartet (and guests! Renzo invites his mom, and Marcus invites his doctor) bet a considerable amount on their horse, entrusting Rosie to bring that bacon home. As usual, their win comes as no surprise, but it doesn’t detract from any allure. Thanks to Escalante’s muttered pointers in the stands, we witness the science of jockeying more precisely than before. It becomes clear that it’s all about windows of opportunity, just like bets and wagers themselves. If you don’t use the lane you’re given to bust out, then someone else will. And fortunately, Rosie breaks to the outside at the exact right moment and it allows her to come out the victor by a couple lengths.

But with no insult to the lovely Rosie and her triumph (I just adore how grateful she is just to be riding. When she wins, it feels like a reward for a good heart as much as a good rider), the race that follows is the best the show has done—ugh, I guess, did. The first truly neck-and-neck finish engineered the most excitement, and continued the strategic bent of the first by putting us in the POVs of the two trainers unleashing their game plans underneath their breath. Both, in order to lessen the agony, declare they probably just missed. There has to be a winner though, and Gus’ Pint of Plain comes out on top. Gus shouts out his tried and true motto: “Greatest f**king country in the world!” holding his trophy under his arm.

The elation is undercut somewhat when Brent shows up, disobeying his grandpa’s request. The trembling panic in his voice as he tries to whisk him away from open space to “where the people are” stopped my heart as I hoped against hope that he would go unharmed, as Mike observes from his box seats, “The primal, primitive scurrying.” Thank God, the kid suffers no consequence, but Milch and director Mimi Leder were masterful in creating and “anything goes” type of atmosphere. Also, credit the long-term effects of characterization. We know little overall about what Mike, Ace and the rest have done in the past, but through Ace’s borderline rage and phrases like Gus’ “Remember that one time in Chicago,” we know that Dodging Death has been their business for some time, and they’re grizzled veterans by now.

As I mentioned in a previous review, “Luck” can at its finest be a “symphony of evocative notes.” And as the minutes waned on this overwhelming, emotive masterpiece I found my heart hurting, knowing that those chords were being struck for the last time. There was the threatening implications of a somewhat innocuous conversation between Ace and Mike before the race, “Great gift, the ability to adapt. Do you feel it all diminishes, as time begins to reel us in? Then there’s Walter and Escalante, exchanging sincere congratulations on a helluva race. Walter promises the same next time around and I audibly moaned, “Noooo,” because we won’t get to be there. Also there’s the celebratory barbecue. Our Four Amigos, who only seemed tenuously bonded by circumstance and convenience, rejoice in their impenetrable friendship that survives ruthless taunting and addiction recovery to become possibly the grandest accomplishments of the show. Admittedly, I looked down upon these scoundrels, these railbirds. They seemed like parasites, festering wounds of a dying sport, hoping to soak up what little they could. But by the end, they became agents of their own destiny. They became a team of inspired spectators that are part of the dream instead of just wishing. They plan on buying a house with many hot tubs and stereos, and Jerry showers Naomi with hundreds as she’s sprawled out naked on his bed. It’s a cheesy, almost hip-hop image of success, but these perennial bottomfeeders deserve the glee of even the most cliched indulgences. If there were any folks you could latch onto as an everyman viewer, it was them.

There’s no mistaking who the star was though. Chester “Ace” Bernstein was the soul of the show. A battered ex-con, looking to turn his life into something worth taking pride in. Despite not fully ridding himself of the ghosts that haunt him—the Smythes, and DiRozzis, and Cohens of the world are still operating on the impulse to bulldoze the track and replace it with tract housing, crushing Ace’s aspirations of bringing interest back to the sport and glory of horse racing—there’s reason to be believe he can escape his past. Pint of Plain is now a Derby winner, and we see Ace stick his neck out by promising that he’ll be for Brent what he could have been. He changes the meaning of “luck” (lowercase intended) for me. He commits to seeing through the hand he’s dealt. He asks tenderly, “You feeling lucky, kid?” and it transforms the complexion of the show. In the beginning it was greed-driven, these men were invariably obsessed by their pursuit of “more.” But “more” does have an apex, it’s a loving home filled with those you care about. And if that’s the melody I’ll be humming when Milch the conductor signals it’s a wrap, I’m content. There’s nothing more life-affirming than you can have it all if you simply take a chance and open yourself up to the possibility of an almost impossible feat. Not a life of riches, but the richness of life.

It’s true what they say, the good die young. And this youngin’ passed away still vital. I’d like to think I knew what I had before it was gone, but I didn’t realize until about four episodes in how much I, nay we, needed a show like this. I spoke with my father yesterday and he talked about how he’s loved the developments of post-9/11 entertainment. The environment is shrouded in darkness, it’s grittier, and we’re embracing the evil that could always be surrounding us. And while this vigilance has made us paranoid, it’s made us hold onto what is good. And though not everything’s coming up roses, there’s something beautiful blossoming on the micro level that’s just as delicate a flower: family, friends, true love. They still exist, even when the foundations of our society crumbles all around us, it’s not the end as long as human connection is possible. And in “Luck’s” universe, your odds aren’t great, but we aren’t alone in that struggle. And ultimately, we walked away knowing that to some degree, everyone could sustain happiness. Ace and Gus eyed the feed of the camera they installed and the goat, the one with pumpkin size-nuts, strolls into the barn after they thought it had gone missing. Horses, though they’re still foreign and strange compared to our conceptions of being, too delight in the comfort of normalcy, depending on the day-to-day. “Luck” left me with hope that if that goat will always return, then so can my faith in people.

For that reassurance, and for providing gorgeous, compelling, well-written human drama in a world that would be a pleasure to hangout in beyond the constraints of the small screen, I congratulate “Luck” on a helluva race. But just because it’s over, that doesn’t mean we’re done.* So this isn’t goodbye. It’s more like Walter said, “More of the same next time?”, a prayer to the TV gods that they’ll honor the memory of these graceful deceased, as well as the achievements of the show, and will bring us a precious offspring just like it, real soon.

*For anyone interested, I’ll be reviewing “Game of Thrones,” another HBO drama based on George R.R Martin’s fantasy book series, “A Song of Fire and Ice,” starting next week!

Ace seeks to stop the bloodshed and the track anticipates the Western Derby on the penultimate episode of "Luck."

The universe has a cruel sense of humor, doesn’t it? A show called “Luck” becomes victim the victim of the worst sort of fortune imaginable? Not only was a third horse euthanized due to injuries suffered during the production of a second season episode, but HBO creator David Milch decided they couldn’t justifying continuing the series if the safety of their equine performers wasn’t ensured. So it is with a heavy heart that I review the eighth and penultimate episode of “Luck’s” first and (for all intents and purposes) final season.

Expectedly, knowing that it was the second-to-last time I would spend a day at Santa Anita added a great deal of urgency to the proceedings. Since there’s no chance for last-minute edits, it’s unlucky that not every beloved character’s pursuits will be resolved in some way, but I suppose that’s the most logical ending you could have for a show like this. After all, the show never stipulates what kind of “Luck” it is. For Nathan Israel, it damn sure isn’t good. For whichever owner/trainer/jockey comes out the victor next week, it will be the most splendid. And for The Four Amigos, whose horse won’t be entered in the Western Derby? Changes with each bet they place, and with each day that passes.

Anyone accustomed to the HBO formula would have been weary that tonight signaled decisive action. The Sopranos and The Wire set the precedent for major character deaths and/or perpetration of violence in the penultimate episodes, and with Mike’s (Michael Gambon) murder by ashtray of Nathan Israel last week, all indications seemed to point to Ace’s revenge. Such expectations may have led some to be disappointed, but I was delighted by the suspense and strange sense of payoff that resulted from Ace’s eventual inaction.

Waking in a panic, Ace yells for Gus, wondering why “the kid” hasn’t checked in. Simultaneously, we cut to Mike overseeing a small fishing boat in the distance which looks to be disposing of that very kid’s body. This initiates an inspired juxtaposition between Mike’s associate Isadore Cohen (Ted Levine) meeting with the chief at the Indian casino to discuss their mutual interests and the gory dissection of Israel’s corpse. It illustrates many things, the foremost being the distance these ruthless men put between the messier aspects of their business endeavors and the more civil, backdoor negotiations. But while Israel’s death was an unexpected and horrific consequence of Ace’s revenge scheme, he’d baited Mike into sending Cohen to secure the Indian gaming lobby. Therefore, when Cohen exchanges money with the chief as a sign of commitment and partnership, Gus walks out with a DVD recording of the meeting. For those unsure of the implications, Gus, and Ace by proxy, now have proof of a criminal conspiracy to persuade the Indian gaming lobby to leverage votes in the California state legislature for the legal allowance of casino gambling at horse racing tracks.

Between the shots of the bloodied deck and slicing up of the stiff, and the cold, calculated precision of Ace’s plan in motion, my mouth was agape. Certainly with such ruthless gangsters involved, I knew their capabilities would surface, but unaware of how far their cunning would extend it was still a shock to see how it all transpired. But when Mike’s other business partner, Nick DiRossi, shows up to discuss the disappearance of their mutual acquaintance (who has somehow sent a resignation to both sides by email from beyond the grave), it’s made clear that the disc procured by Gus is just a cog in the wheel. With the help of Escalante, Ace sequesters Gus and DiRossi in an empty shed while Ace drives off. The suggestion here is that Gus is taking care of DiRossi, while Ace is racing to Mike’s yacht to off him.

The tension surrounding what might happen pervades every inch of dialogue as Gus’ usual innocence and good-natured humor transforms into a menacing sarcasm. Ace’s movements and speech also exude a sense of impending doom. For one, as he leaves for his car he tells Turo how he was involved in securing his first job. A final demonstration of goodwill? He also becomes agitated in traffic, as if impatient for the encounter to come. These subtle detections of building rage in both characters, who for the most part have only hinted at their potential for felonious foul play was an artistic mastery on the part of Milch. We’d become so accustomed to the jovial and tender sides of Gus and Ace through eight episodes that we’d almost forgotten that the entire motivation of their behaviors was predicated on seeking vengeance. Are they truly good-hearted? I suppose they are, but criminals are as criminals do. But Ace’s choice to give Mike “a pass” seems to suggest a concerted effort to relieve himself of his past: the dealings and the self he’d devolved into.

Despite the main thrust of tonight’s plot being how Ace’s scheming and the suggestion of blood-stained solutions took over much of the drama, there were other significant moments. For one, Jo gets kicked in the stomach by a spooked horse’s hind leg. The immediate concern is the safety of her unborn child. At first, signs are good, but after further observation, the doctors deem that she needs a procedure to save the pregnancy. John Ortiz does some of his best acting on the series thus far with his portrayal of a man who had just started to shorten the emotional distance between him and his lover, and now as a reward for his efforts he might lose his baby. He’s a man I presume who finds weakness in crying and displays of grief, but with a gentle twirl of a lock of Jo’s hair I was sold that in the moment he was selfless, and wanted nothing more than for her and the child to be okay. This is leaps and bounds ahead of where I saw Escalante weeks ago: self-centered, detached, and venal. Now, he seems to be a man with principles that are deeply rooted in family and responsibility. While Jo rests before her procedure in the morning, he watches over Eduardo, the young boy Jo took on last week as a helper. Again, with nonverbal cues, Ortiz shows the pride he takes in this role when he points to the toilet after the boy brushes his teeth, so that the boy goes to the bathroom before bed.

The rest are concerned with the Western Derby, an annual race held at Santa Anita that yields a million-dollar purse. Walter’s Gettin’ Up Morning and Gus’ (and Escalante-trained) Pint Of Plain are the favorites. Walter draws the most difficult position though at the drawing, the first position or the “the rail” and Escalante draws the two spot. As only TV can provide, the two heavyweights will start out the gate, side by side. The Four Amigos’ Mon Gateau is ruled not ready by Escalante for this competition, but the horse becomes the focal point of controversy when Joey advocates for Rosie to get the ride over Leon in a race on Derby Day. Apparently his weight problems still persist, and this race requires he be five pounds lighter. Rosie is elated, and does horribly to hide her excitement for a depressed and discouraged Leon.

Walter has own demons this week as he confronts the son-in-law determined to take Gettin’ Up back to Kentucky. For much of the run so far, Nick Nolte has played Walter with a gruff, but bruised demeanor. Like a battered veteran, his experiences with horses have both emboldened and shaped him, but as we’ve come to understand this particular horse carries a lot of weight in his heart. Delphi, the horse’s father, was killed so that the children of its owner could cash in on a life insurance policy. Riddled with guilt, Walter has resolved to give its foal the best possible life, but with the SOB son-in-law claiming legal ownership, Walter lets loose the rage inside him. Red in the face, and boiling over he still manages to win a preliminary hearing due to adequate legal counsel. However, when he confronts the man outside the stables, he shoves him to the ground. Whether he will face repercussions remains to be seen (or perhaps maybe never to be seen), but it was a wonderful glimpse into the tortured soul of the grizzled old-timer.

The Four Amigos were relegated to backdrop status this week, mostly serving as spectators or a greek chorus to the build-up for next week’s finale. They remarked on their horse, the other three lamented how Naomi, Jerry’s new girl, was ruining the dynamic, and they wondered who would get the ride on Mon Gateau for Derby Day. I’m unsure if they will object to having Rosie at the helm. But while my lovable degenerates had little to do, just their presence led me to sigh regretfully. Hanging out with these gambling nobodies was one of the most enjoyable parts of the viewing experience, and made “Luck” an even more uniquely vivid and sprawling show. Large tapestry-like ensembles seem par for the course for HBO dramas, and on those other casts they had characters that were connected by tenuous, bureaucratic threads. But for once, an optimism pervaded on “Luck,” the idea that although the fabric that held them together could rip at the seams, at any time, it wouldn’t tear them apart. These people weren’t just connected by a sport, they were bonded by a fondness, an unspoken love. In the end, some of the resisters like Escalante, and maybe even those who eluded the luster like Ace, allowed the forces that be to reign them in and reign over them.

The title references the cruel nature of chance, by the essence of “Luck,” was actually the hope that faith in something bigger than wins and losses provides. Maybe all the rock bottoms and pain were just progress. Not since “Lost” can I remember a TV show inspiring me to reexamine my own beliefs in people and in powers beyond my control. Even if cynicism is trendy right now, and the depictions of a decaying culture are in high demand, I’m glad that even for nine episodes I was reminded that it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m electing not to analyze what it means that a show with such values couldn’t survive. Why would a show where redemption was possible see an untimely end, when shows about the immovable nature of greed and corruption (i.e “The Sopranos”) thrive? Perhaps it is just the nature of the beast, and “Luck” had nothing to do with it.

While I’ll mourn the lives of horses lost, I will also grieve for the loss of a young show, with so much potential. Though it felt like a mad dash for the finish line at times, glossing over certain characters and outstanding storylines, this was an appropriately roaring crescendo to the hallelujah chorus I’ve been basking in for eight weeks. For making me gasp at the peaks and ponder the valleys, I look ahead to the sunset admiring the beauty that is (not was, yet), almost blissfully unaware. The finale will be the dusk, the curtain on this brilliantly rendered landscape of the horse racing world, but for now I’ll just be mesmerized and grateful just to be witnessing it.

Even the mindful gangster Ace Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) may not be ready for what lies on the horizon.

Amid some jovial moments with The Four Amigos (once just a bunch of degenerates, now the founding members of Foray Stables) and some romantic progress for Ace, Jerry and Escalante, first blood is drawn: Ace’s young hotshot, Nathan Israel, with his face flush to a crimson pool.

Noting Milch’s “waste not, want not” approach to cinematography, one must consider the shot shown immediately after the gruesome sight of Israel’s bashed-in cranium lying lifelessly on the floor of Mike’s (Michael Gambon) yacht: a flock of seagulls fleeing the scene. After the foreboding tremors of last week forced our friends to confront their choices and possibilities, this week illustrates that unlike the flock it won’t be so easy to escape themselves and their decisions, for those tied to the track.

Is there an inevitability (I sure hope you are compiling these in a study guide of some sort) to a universe ruled by luck? Many measures are taken to assert control, but nearly all of the folks we’ve come to know are at the mercy of another, or the fickle deities that are the gambling gods. Up until this point the boldness of rolling the dice had been rewarded, even if it lead some down the proverbial rabbit hole. Jerry was a few whiskers shy of rock bottom, Joey was just a few degrees of angled bullet away from the long goodbye, and Leon and Rosie both are either a couple pounds or flick of the stick away from obscurity. And that’s just a few kick-ups of the dust settling in the ominous air of Santa Anita.

For some there’s a tinge of hope shining through despite those gathering particles that try to block out any light. After a respite from the poker table, Jerry returns to the game with swagger, and he may just be indebted to his ragtag gang for that. But it’s his own strategies and maneuvers that win him a seat at the next phase for The World Series of Poker. Deserving some credit though is his secret partner in a tag team effort, Naomi, the dealer who witnessed his downward spiral against Leo. She might have scared the rest of the table off before they could maximize their score, but the end result is the same: a jackpot win and some parking lot sex between the victors. Jerry charms her with his down-to-earth request that she accompany him for a soda, “That’s what we call it where I’m from.”

As the previous quote indicates, this cliche calm-before-the-storm was not without some humor. Marcus delivers a humdinger: “Guy shows a little ass, and damn if a nightstick isn’t shoved up there and given a little twist,” and Lonnie and Renzo are catty critics of Jerry’s gorgeous new gal, “She didn’t say where she was from” and “She wore quite a bit of makeup.” Escalante also contributes a silly non sequitur after Ace installs a surveillance camera so he can keep an eye on Pint of Plain: “Watch my barn get put on the Facebook.”

Yet suffering seems to be the fate that will befall them all, and the tally of the afflicted started last night. In the first installment of the season’s final third, we realize that hot streaks end, and that there’s no certainty you’ll be ready for when the fires dies out. That interconnectedness that Milch and the crew have slowly been building, will crumble under the weight of the character’s different dependencies. Every one of them in one way or another is banking on someone else, scheming to ensure that structure will stand. And the beams have begun to sway ever so subtly.

Ace’s buffer has been removed, and for the first time he doesn’t anticipate this domino’s fall. He writes off the lack of a response from Nathan by surmising that he is getting laid by one of the many women on Mike’s boat. It’s not like him to dismiss. Could it be that Claire’s kindness has willed him into trusting? This vulnerability could bode well for their future as a couple, but there will be no “them” if Mike and his associates reclaim the leverage Ace spent countless dollars and hours solidifying. Before the bloodshed, he’s still the puppet master, manipulating their movements by feigning a meeting with the Indian casino knowing that Mike would hire a photographer to gather snapshot evidence, but the obliviousness about Israel maybe having been clipped at sea, is unsettling to say the least. As Ace’s all-seeing, but doughy eye looks upon Pint Of Plain, his gaze is diverted from the threat to all he has grown accustomed to and has cared about since his release.

The most God-fearing creatures are the slender jockeys. During pillow talk, Rosie concludes with Leon that she’ll use his sorta agent Joey as a proxy through which to gauge Walter’s feelings on giving her the mount in Gettin’ Up’s next race. Joey strong-arms her into “taking her book,” but then irritates Walter by showing his hand and making him feel rushed into a decision. Here’s where inevitability gets dicey. Was it Rosie’s initiative through Joey that eventually yields a “No” from Walter or was the ride Ronnie Jenkins’ to win or lose all along. Speak of the pill-crushing devil, Ronnie acts the part of a recovering addict well enough to convince Walter he can be trusted with Gettin’ Up’s mount, but in the final frames he succumbs to the beckoning of a bottle of Oxy and shamefully snorts them.

Lonnie, feeling like the fourth wheel of Foray Stables, decides on a business venture for himself: another Escalante horse in a claiming race. He figures this horses’s condition is for show, similar to the scenario that fell in their laps with Mon Gateau. But after launching out of the gate “like a rocketship,” Leon pulls up promptly when the horse starts to show signs of a hitch in her giddy up. Later proving to be a ruptured flexor tendon, Lonnie inherits a newly sidelined racehorse, but a still potentially profitable philly if he sends her off to a retirement farm to be a brood mare (she’ll spend her days breeding and birthing future champions). Ill-conceived from the onset, there’s an air about how it all played out that feels like self-fulfilling prophecy, and that outside of the bubble of Lonnie’s personal risk, maybe our quartet of degenerates don’t end up as fortunate. When you try to catch lightning in a bottle, isn’t it only a matter of time before it strikes you down?

Gloom casts its shadow over the radiant moments, such as Esclante’s warm receptiveness to fatherhood, through Mike’s remarks about syntax. When Mike’s seemingly irrational and savage beating occurs he justifies it with his frenzied cries of “Syntax!” By retorting the way he did, “Answered a question with another question,” Israel revealed to Mike that he stands in solidarity with Ace, and was not a double agent in the purest sense. Applied more broadly, this idea that oneself will be revealed eventually through what they’ve said or done would seem to harken back the old HBO adage, the one justifying their notoriously slow-burning dramas: all the pieces matter. Could Ace’s skepticism that he shares at the thoroughbred retirement farm, about inmates’ being rehabilitated by caring for a horse, “They’re still in custody” be confirmed? Are people bound to who they are?

If one is to redeem themselves, they have to test their will. Escalante tests his will by showing Jo he can be selfless and puts the needs of another before his by bringing Eduardo home to his abandoning uncle. Walter in his soulful struggle to avenge Delphi’s murder through his foal decides that Ronnie will be the better fit to take Gettin’ Up to the promiseland. And Jerry faces his gambling woes head on by thrusting himself into high stakes competition. Faith that high risk will reap high rewards seems to be the religion of our track-goers, and we cringe knowing that men have died over faith before. When Mike smacks Israel upside his temple with a glass dish, he not only (allegedly) takes his life, but he challenges our hope that those who deserve to win, will.

With all that subtext smashing in our own skulls, in addition to the brimming pot of plot boiling over, this episode felt awkwardly insisting where subtlety and simplicity has previously prevailed. I’d imagine the outright exposition and influx of events was essential considering we’re approaching the penultimate episode; HBO shows tends to drop bombs during the week that proceeds the finale, which deals with the fallout. That clunkiness can be mostly forgiven though, because the overwhelming feeling is that we’re going to be broadsided soon, and the merciful Milch was kind enough to allow us time to brace ourselves. But for providing several restorative moments that contrast the gruesome and bleak possibilities of retribution and relapse that might await our pals, leading us into the last two episodes looking over our shoulders, the “Brains Housing Department” deserves to be rewarded for their risks, for their own entrance into the world of high-stakes television: A-.

The nefarious and mysterious Michael (Michael Gambon) unnerves adversaries as he downs a morning scotch.

The spinning coin that appears beside the title, as Massive Attack’s “Splitting the Atom” hypnotically thumps in the background, is a carefully and ingeniously designed metaphor. Exemplified in tonight’s episode, the “Luck” universe is really not about chance at all.

It’s about chances, plural. It’s about whether we choose to take the opportunity that is handed to us, or whether we squander ourselves by returning to what is familiar and simultaneously destructive. Sometimes it’s abundantly clear what the better choice would be, which life lifts us up out of the doldrums. Other times, we just have to trust that by altering our perception of what is, we invite the possibility for something extraordinary.

The duality of a coin flip is mirrored in the duplicity of the characters. A slew of our major players are given opportunities and possibilities (these week’s key terms, save them for the final exam at season’s end), forks in the road that might change their station, but instinct and fear of incalculable risk steers them in the direction of what feels comfortable. Gus puts it succinctly. America is “the greatest f***ing country in the world.” But it’s only as great as we make it. Milch, the television auteur that drives this show, seems to be a big believer in the American experiment, but through his tragicomic gamblers, his brooding gangsters, his temperamental trainers and jittery jockeys he conveys how it hinges upon the initiative of those who partake in it.

Ace has never held issue with self-reliance. However illegitimate his rise may have been, he made himself who he is. And he’s just as hellbent on restoring his reputation, and evidently ruining that of his “colleagues.” Armed with his new shaking-in-his-boots derivative expert for hire, Nathan Israel, Ace sets out to meet with the majority track owner while sending his errand boy to meet with his “associates” (the only way to describe the unstable relationships he has to these businessmen is with quotes, I’m sorry). The track owner grants him a piece of the pie, but he’s catching the vibe that the track will serve as a stage for a vengeful scheme. But Ace seems to revel in the suspicion because all it does is keep those involved on edge, paranoid. Also privy to his ulterior motives is his parole officer, who wonders whether his good mood is contingent upon how close he’s coming to dolling out comeuppance and how much of it is inner peace. Ace claims it to be both, but to be two things in the “Luck” universe is to force a decision to pick one.

We’re introduced to Joey as he continues to blubber about the dreck that constitutes his life. He is client-less, and garners no respect. Whoever Lynn is to him, she’s neglected to return his calls and there’s no one whom he could name that would miss him. Consequently, Joey reaches for his pistol after a morning shave and shakily points it at his temple. Here an assertion of divine intervention presents itself as a small-scale earthquake that rips through town. Though it doesn’t affect the horses, it provokes Joey to drop his gun. He trips the trigger, however, upon release. The ricocheting bullet eventually tears through Joey’s face. After receiving treatment for his wound at the hospital, he discovers that the bullet left an even more indelible mark than a scar: his stammer has disappeared. Though we’ve largely viewed Joey through pity goggles, and found him deplorable because of his leech-like quality of feeding off the successes of others, we’ve found little reason to root for his redemption. But damn if it wasn’t gratfiying to listen to him repeat, “Hello, my name is Joey Rathburn” and recite the instructions on his shirt tags.

Many confrontations with new ways of being happened at the track as well. Moments of triumph are undercut by scrutiny as our jockeys deal with the rigid requirements of what it means to win. Leon is allowed to ride Mon Gateau again; and if he makes the most of it, it could become a permanent gig. Gateau gallops to victory as expected, but Leon’s handling of the horse is put under inquiry when he bumps another one making his way to the front of the pack.  If it’s determined there was intent, the win would be nullified. When the judges asks Leon for his take, he’s at a loss for words. He doesn’t help his case. Thankfully, the replay is inconclusive, unable to prove that Gateau gained a competitive advantage since it didn’t alter how the horses finished. The win is solidified, but Escalante reminds Leon to thank his lucky stars.

Rosie has earned her spot as Gettin’ Up Morning’s jockey in Walter’s eyes, but she almost gives him reason to regret that decision when she uses the whip, defying Walter’s direct order to sit still. Walter’s disappointment is even more pronounced because Morning’s six-length victory captures the attention of track officials who believe a star may be rising before their very eyes. Rosie’s apology is later accepted, as it’s clear her level of remorse is sky-high. She was just so consumed with the will to win that she needed to ensure it, but she acknowledges she should have trusted him and the horse.

Our four degenerates provide the comic relief between these peaks and valleys as they too adjust to the spotlight upon them…well, as they perceive it. Hilarious lines like Marcus’ quip in response to Renzo, worrying that the horse may have suffered a trauma from the earthquake, “Yeah, how would we know, unless the horse keeps a journal.” And Lonnie had me in stitches when he gazes at a statue outside Santa Anita and marvels at its sculpted genitalia, “They actually gave it brass nuts.” They revel in Gateau’s controversial win and Marcus hacks up his lung during the victory photo. Milch often treats these guys like his four stooges, but there’s an innocence to them that keeps them from being a laughingstock. They go about their business with no intent to harm others, only perhaps themselves, as they chase the next high. Ownership has given them an opportunity also, to get more out of these races than the payout. Their bond with the horse and each other strengthens each time Mon Gateau crosses the finish line.

Not everyone responds to their chance to grow. After their displays of affection in the barn last week, Escalante returns to his cold and distant treatment of Jo, mocking and undermining her at every turn. When she tries to apologize for questioning his harshness in dealing with a grieving employee, he doesn’t accept, and Jo walks away cursing him and the way he treats her and others as means to an end. Under her breath, she reveals the sad truth that she’s “knocked up,” and it’s a stinging realization. The way he discards her attempts at connection, we might be in for a painful decision on Jo’s part.

Others, try as they might, just can’t shake their old habits to make room for new selves. Joey’s stammer comes back the next day when he returns to the track and is teased mercilessly by Ronnie about the bandage on his face. As he starts to own up to his attempted suicide, the impediment returns. The implication is that by returning to the root of his shame, he’s forfeited his opportunity to start anew. The disappearance of his stammer was a preview of what could have been, but instead of capitalizing on his new self, he used the confidence to return to his old haunt. I’m not sure if Milch meant to suggest God’s will in this act, but at the very least we now know there are tangible consequences if one refuses to change.

Ace also resists, but not for lack of effort. With all his stars aligning, Israel planting a seed in Mike’s head about the Indian Gaming Lobby being in Ace’s pocket, Pint Of Plain poised for prominence, and a pleasant evening with Claire, it suggests to him his stock is rising. Claire even serves as the series’ mouthpiece, telling Ace not to be afraid of “everything that could be.” She sees the profound affect the horse he affectionately calls “Irish” has on him, proving to her that her organization has a worthy cause (of pairing ex-cons with retired horses). She’s sees that he’s better than the three-year sentence he served. I even gathered that Ace is not proud of who he is/was. But when Gus falls asleep as Ace begins to voice his newfound optimism, he retreats to his familiar home, anger. He bitterly asks Gus to leave and in his futility he stares into the camera (a cheesy directorial choice, but when it’s Hoffman, it works) and grunts, “What is f***ing wrong with me?”

Exhilarating races, sharp writing and compelling characters have become almost givens by “Luck’s” sixth week. What made this week exceptional for me was how singular and yet how all encompassing the message was. Often times, artists fear directly conveying “points” because it overshadows the nuances of performance and verisimilitude with a sermon-like preachiness. But I never felt once like my hand was being held. The more obvious instances of opportunity didn’t even spell it out for me, they just resonated so deeply in my own reservations about change and risk-taking that I couldn’t help but identify with Milch’s vision. Also to the show’s credit, these stories were not hastily constructed vignettes, contrived for the purpose of telling a simplistic moral about being “open to trying new things.” These head-on collisions with their intrinsic natures have been brewing since we met them in the pilot, and they just can’t run from themselves anymore.

Episode Six was complete with miracles, disappointments, consequences, rewards and punishments, budding friendships and destructive dependencies, glory and shame. For such a wonderfully whole set-up to the final third of the season that will likely reward us with the full purse, I answer Dustin Hoffman’s direct address with a resounding “Nothing,” you’re a near-perfect portrayal of just how rife with imperfection humanity is, and how we flourish in spite of our selfish knack for sabotage. A.

Ace Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) watches with Claire (Joan Allen) as his horse, Pint of Plain, makes its debut.

Although human beings can be incomprehensibly complex, we’re also a fairly predictable bunch. I found it absurd how easily disarmed I was by the final shot of Ace and his horse, Pint of Plain, nuzzling each other. That killed me. And god dammit David Milch (the show’s creator) and tonight’s director, Brian Kirk, knew that. And I’m willing to bet money they knew that by repeatedly showing Joey leaving messages for his ex-wife Lynn I’d begin to pity how his life’s unraveling.

Episode Five was a symphony of evocative notes, designed to send us into a whirlwind where we’d begin to empathize with the despicable, and be cautiously invested in the tender. Nearly every Santa Anita patron has a hidden agenda they are chasing, but all the scheming and the sketchy maneuvers come to a grinding halt for the beautiful beasts.

With the rise of the serialized drama, multi-season story arcs constructed with an endgame in mind, there isn’t much room for episodic routine on acclaimed television. Though the “slow burn” of “Luck’s” early episodes couldn’t be mistaken for standalones, they established a formula: the unfolding of one day at the track.

We could count on a horse race being at the midpoint, and we’d end with Ace and Gus’ reflections on the day. Since “Luck” serves as a thorough examination of the horse racing world and those that inhabit it, a foreign entity to most of the viewing public, it’s comforting to have expectations. We’re thrown off-balance this week because Episode Five covers two days: the Ace/Gus discussion is at midpoint and Pint of Plain’s racing debut is at the near end. It’s hardly an harmful alteration, because by breaking from convention, albeit one with minimal history, we take stock in the ways each character reveals his capacity for attachment and companionship: my key words for this week.

It would seem odd for most of these men, who are perpetually seeking reward, redemption or even revenge, to ground themselves in the present. Past failures and future prospects drive them forward, committing them only to their next paycheck or tomorrow’s race. And while life’s natural mystique is still encapsulated in yet another mesmerizing race sequence, we see most of our major players seeking, whether admittedly or not, the company of others to give their lives meaning.

Ace (who Dustin Hoffman continues to inhabit with a soothing yet dynamic charm), for instance, becomes fidgety and testy when Claire of the Thoroughbred Retirement Foundation doesn’t show to pick up her check. Gus tries to ease Ace’s mind by making any number of excuses for her. Ace initially becomes defensive, “What are you her lawyer?” but then he smilies as the scenarios become more implausible. It’s difficult to stay mad at “The Greek” when he is pseudo-philophizing about how the great men of history, Babe Ruth and General Patton, are dead, but they are here, alive. The sentiment is rife with implications of how greatness only comes who does who act, but coming from Gus it gives off the air of nighttime rambling, which is fine with me. Every time those two converse before bed, there’s always a nugget you take away. Whether it’s a reveal of Ace’s character, or a quotable perspective with which to view the preceding (or in this case also the following) events, their interplay always enriches the episode.

The next morning she does show up, and the giddy anxiety that overcomes him when Gus says she is on her way up is adorable. I’m impressed with the decision to give Ace a crush as opposed to depicting him as a ladykiller. With the influence he has, I’m sure he could buy the affection of many breathtaking women, but not every gangster, especially the aged ones, can be a womanizer. His understated displays of generosity and almost reserved courtship are refreshing. When he asks Claire to attend Pint’s race, it seems like a legitimate invitation to accompany him, to spend time, and not a precursor to a romp in the hay (which could be literal on this show, so I should be careful with what I say).

However, Ace ends up sleeping outside Pint Of Plain’s stall, and Gus drives Claire home once night falls. When Pint of Plain’s right hind leg is sliced by a renegade horseshoe, Ace insists he accompany the horse through the night. The results of an X-ray and ultrasound in the morning would shed light on his condition, but Ace is more concerned about comforting the animal that had enchanted him from the second he kicked up dirt. When he pets and kisses Pint’s muzzle after the horse had nudged him awake, you wonder why he is so receptive of him and so shy with Claire? Yes, he spent three years imprisoned, but what makes Pint easier to relate to? Perhaps, because a horse won’t reject him.

Marcus, our sailor-mouth momma hen of the degenerate gamblers, begins the episode in rare form. He harps on Jerry for his habitual gambling and when the security guard Kagel visits their motel room he verbally assaults him about his obesity. Turns out that bitterness stems from his fear that he’s dying. Upon a visit to his chest doctor, he’s assured he should have at least five years left (but the doc won’t give him 15). What is intensifying his coughing fits is stress. The doc suggests he find someone to talk to and Marcus replies that he has a horse. Again, why is it so much easier to project emotional need on to these animals? Sure with their innocence and their evident majesty it’s easy to become attached, but why not one of his pals? This is answered with a Valium-induced admission to Jerry that he thinks he might be “queer for him.”

Some might characterize their discussion as homophobic due to the derogatory terms that fly around, but Milch is more concerned with sincerity than sensitivity. It’s likely that these men would stigmatize homosexuality, and it’s also likely that as a disabled person, Marcus may have never had a real buddy due to always taking care of himself. His confusion of sexual attraction and concern for Jerry’s mental health is farfetched for sure, but the heartwarming honesty adds authenticity to it. The usage of slurs may have been gratuitous and even made me squirm a bit, but what I took out is that intimate male friendships are dignified and have tremendous value and need not be trivialized as a “bromance.”

As mentioned, Joey is also fleshed out tonight through his attachments, or lack thereof. He receives the scorn of his only remaining jockey, (Ronnie hired another agent after his injury) Leon, because Escalante chooses another jockey for Pint at Ace’s behest. To be fair, Escalante was only using Leon (a “bug” or apprentice) because it would increase the odds. After misleading Ace, telling him that there was a 90% chance he’d scratch his horse, Ace decided he wouldn’t tolerate Escalante’s gambling superseding his duty as trainer. Ace then politely handed Escalante $5,000 to give Leon and to replace him with a veteran so that Pint had his best shot. This move of course, makes Joey look horrendous as an agent, despite a loose promise from Escalante that Leon could ride Mon Gateau when he’s ready to race again.

Buried under his own self-pity, Joey attempts to claw his way out by calling his ex-wife Lynn. He gets her voicemail three times and each time his lip quivers a little more, inching towards meltdown. Putting his moves as an agent in this context, it shifts your entire understanding of the character. Once an SOB, he becomes a miserable slouch with only his job to keep him warm at night. Knowing that he hasn’t completely chosen this life, makes his station all the more tragic. With only the success of his clients validating his ego, it’s no wonder why he needs to fill the emptiness with booze, and contradict himself by denigrating Ronnie’s alcoholism and pain. He hates himself, but he takes it out on his struggling-to-make-weight “bug” Leon, and his addiction-riddled old hat. How better to deal with your own misery than to projecting it onto others? But now, with Lynn ignoring his calls, he can’t avoid the truth of his isolation.

The images of companionship and the feeble searchers of it are striking in this fifth episode. I can’t stress enough how choked up I was when Dustin Hoffman stroked Pint with such gentility of spirit. On a minor scale, it was also pleasant to see that Escalante and Jo slept in the stables, all snuggled up. A relationship that began mechanically, “Do you wanna do it?” has now developed into something sweet over the past two weeks. But the most enthralling images captured in this series will always be in the races. I mean, I thought last week was the pinnacle of motion photography. That’s not to say this week is definitively better, because this scene was filmed altogether different. Last week, the race speed was slowed down to a crawl, interspersed with lingering reaction shots that heightened the urgency and added emotional weight. This week was more frantic. The race speed was much closer to the realistic breakneck speed. The only reactions are the gasps from Ace and Escalante as they witness the injury and the subsequent improbable finish. Whereas last week, my mouth was agape at the fluidity of Gettin’ Up’s movement, this week the pace and the closeness of the angles achieved a rattling effect that made me feel like the horse was actually falling off at the hinges. Though it still possessed its own type of gorgeousness, the intention here was to unsettle instead of astound.

The thematic unity continues to impress me, and while we depart slightly from the established format, it warrants its deviation when you can sign off with such a painfully compassionate moment. There was a noticeable lack of Walter and Rosie though, (who besides Ace have become my favorites to root for) but I can’t fault them for wanting to give other characters a spotlight as we approach the point of no return, when we’ll need to decide where we’ll place our allegiance. So for cementing itself as an apt portrait of the value of attachment and companionship, even in the lives of reckless and greed-driven men, and for offering an empathetic, humanistic lens with which to view the more insufferable characters like Marcus and Joey, I’m willing to make myself vulnerable by committing: to an A-.

Gettin' Up runs the race of its life, propelling Rosie (Kerry Condon) to victory in her jockeying debut.

If you stuck with this show, you reaped the rewards tonight. There had been gorgeous camera work in the pilot; and Ace Bernstein, Walter Smith and Jerry had seemed like intriguing characters that might be worth investing in. And sure, plot items that were presented hazily—like who the hell is Mike is, and what Ace is up to—may have perturbed you, but none of those aspects, good or bad, really matters until this episode’s pivotal race.

Critics often rant about what makes compelling television. Is it in the moments where the art transcends the medium and makes you feel something as if on a higher plane? Is it in a cast of characters who make for lively company? Is it simply in the stories being told, in the truths being espoused by the actions and events that unfold. No matter what your criteria, if you haven’t found a reason to be sucked in by HBO’s “Luck,” I doubt you’ll find it if this week’s central race sequence didn’t take your breath away. If you didn’t find it as Gettin’ Up Morning swiftly pumped across the finish line, if you didn’t find it while Walter clapped his binoculars, remotely controlling the horse’s pace, and if you didn’t find it in the glee that radiated from Rosie’s pink cheeks as she yelled in victory, then you must not have seen what I saw: overwhelming, raw emotion, and the epitome of sublimity that solidified me as a fan.

Though there were moments within the first three episodes that might warrant similar exaltation, most of the time was spent laying down the foundation for that payoff. We had spent time with Walter yammering to himself about how special this horse was, how he wish his the colt’s daddy were here to see him run. We had seen Rosie’s evolution from exercise girl to jockey, and unfortunately those who had to suffer (Ronnie Jenkins) for her to get her shot. Upon watching the pilot, much of what was said by, about, or around these people felt atmospheric, not in the least consequential. Then why did I feel myself tighten my fists, muttering “Go, go, go” to no one in particular. Why did I find myself teary-eyed with pride as Rosie took her victory lap and Walter walked gingerly down the steps to the concourse, fist-pumping to himself? There was no trickery involved in what creator David Milch and tonight’s director Phillip Noyce were able to accomplish. It was technical mastery and precision, nothing more. And that’s what’s so infuriating. It’s all in the execution, but it won’t ever be duplicated.

Surrounding the majestic triumph at the episode’s center was my key word: wholeness. Marcus (Kevin Dunn), referring to Jerry’s gambling woes, says, “It’s not the money that makes him whole. Who ever made him, didn’t make him whole.” This is a nagging conceit that runs deeply in the veins of the track and flow through every soul who takes part in day-to-day operations, racing, placing bets, or training horses. This seeking of bottomless gratification is exemplified when Rosie and Leon share the high of her accomplishment with their bodies in heat. In some ways, their sex scene is sloppy, but in others it’s enchanting, watching these two young jockeys become intoxicated by their shared successes. It also serves as a somewhat ironic contrast to the Rosie prior to the race who fervently recited The Lord’s Prayer before the race.

We’re acutely attuned in to Jerry’s lack of wholeness this week as Leo’s obnoxious taunts reach excruciating levels of annoying. And whether it’s to shut him up, or because Jerry really does believe he is “a baby,” Jerry keeps shelling out the cash to prove him wrong. He hasn’t needed the money for three episodes now, but as Marcus observed, it was never about what he was chasing, it’s that he can’t stop chasing. Poker could be heroin, alcohol, sex, or number of addictions. Jerry doesn’t need to beat Leo. He did just two weeks ago, in incredibly theatrical fashion. So why does he come back? The feeling wore off. Rosie relived the ecstasy through watching the tapes and making love to Leon. Jerry relives his glories by buying and winning new ones.

Walter and Ace display vulnerabilities as well, indicating that in their elderly years they are either afraid to lose what makes them whole, or are afraid they never found it. The former scenario is Walter’s, that of a man desperate for the companionship and the care-giving relationship that horse ownership entails. His relishing of the win is short-lived when he wipes Gettin’ Up’s nose and a pool of blood is visible on the cloth. The horse will be fine according to the arthroscopic look into his nasal passages, but this does not sooth Walter’s worries. Near the episode’s end, he speaks aloud to Gettin’ Up’s daddy, Delphi, hoping that the deceased horse knows that this is his son, so that he can be proud of him. Then his anxieties amplify as he wonders whether he can handle losing the son, and the father. His heart is so full of compassion for these creatures that it tortures him to know just how fragile their existence becomes in this profession. But undoubtedly, he wouldn’t wish for any other life for this champion-in-the-making. It’s these sorts of fleeting glimpses into Walter’s psyche that give me the most comprehensive look at the toll a life at the track puts on you heart, mind, and soul. A 1st place finish is simultaneously nothing and everything at once.

Ace might not know if he’s ever been whole. During the now routine end-of-day processing with Gus before bed, he laments, “I’ve been confused about my behavior for some time, I’ll tell you that.” With little else besides revenge fueling his actions, his dealings with Claire have thrown him noticeably off-balance which for someone as composed as he, being in a business as ruthless as his, could be distressing. Speaking of which, plot-wise a lot is happening for Ace at this time. As mentioned, he and Claire of the Thoroughbred Retirement Foundation are poised to become business partners, and he seems unsure if he feels for her in an extracurricular way, but it’s hard to discount the enormous generosity he has shown her with both his money and his courtesies.

With Nathan, he continues to undermine the kid’s confidence. During dinner, Nathan brings up a couple whose having trouble with their mortgage and quips, “Did they not read the contract? They wouldn’t have these problems if they didn’t read the contract.” Ace’s response? “Well that’s an asshole eighth grade observation.” What a guy. Looking out for the defenseless, and humiliating the financially entitled. In addition, we meet Mike (played with verve by Michael Gambon), and I couldn’t help, but be shocked to hear the indecencies being shouted by Dumbledore on a yacht! Joking aside, the role is showy, but Gambon plays it with a balance between sophistication and recklessness. He plays the scene where Mike suspects Ace “must be pissed off” with an eerie control of his volume. One instance, he’ll be raging about how Ace sweats less than Jesus under scrutiny, and then he’ll lower his register when asking if Ace’s grandson is well (the one whom Mike supplied cocaine to). Rivaling his intensity, Ace demands he never speak of him again. The tension between Hoffman and Gambon remains that electric throughout and watching these businessmen clash is its own brand of magnificent.

Other notable happenings include Escalante and Jo, the vet ,shacking up (a step up from last week’s random sex), or at least it seemed that way since they were drinking and watching TV together. Joey Rathburn (Richard Kind) grows increasingly frantic as Ronnie sinks into relapse due largely to the incredible pain from his collarbone break. Not to mention Leon has gained weight caring for the dehydration he suffered that led to the gash above his eye from hitting the floor. With neither of his clients in riding shape, it means irrelevance for him, and his drunken ramblings to a unassuming bartender spell out his pitiful inadequacies. He too falls short of feeling complete without any working jockeys to validate his worth.

While Rosie’s first win trumps all in terms of significance and resonance in my book, the rest of the episode does not underwhelm by comparison. The race only serves as the most shining example of how the caliber of the season has been raised. The stakes are much clearer for everyone, we know what makes each of them tick, and any concern about gaps in understanding have been resolved or dismissed. Also Milch’s dedication to conversational authenticity leads to several gut-busters sprinkled throughout each episode to ease the various mounting intensities. For example, when Marcus begins to experience shortage of breath and requests that Renzo and Lonnie help him find Jerry, they get confused over who they should say is sick. Should they tell Jerry that he is sick, according to Marcus; or should they say Marcus says that he, Marcus, is sick? All Marcus can do is cuss at these incredibly inept associates of his and rue the day he decided to be grouped in with the rest of these beloved degenerates.

“Luck,” in Episode Four, has constructed one of the most moving sequences on TV, year-to-date. Between the staggering instrumentals, the brilliantly stylized closeups, and Nick Notle’s superb expressions of astonishment, Milch and crew set an impossible standard for filming sporting events. Also, for hitting home with a thorough examination of the characters’ incapacity to achieve wholeness, this episode comes ironically close to complete and utter satisfaction, delivering the inspirational and the bleak with equal potency. Like Jo said to Walter, looks like you’ve got a champion: A.

Ace Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) dazzles as a savvy businessman and threatening yet cool customer on "Luck."

I’m aware how reductive it can be to encapsulate a Milch-ian work in one word. It could devalue the razor-sharp perception embedded in his dialogue, it could diminish the thought-provoking choices made with any given shot, and it could disrespect the dedication his actors make to their characters. But it could also serve as a guidepost for the casual fan who wants to understand this man’s mastery with thematic cohesion.

This week, the word is seduction. The track is home to the sirens. Whether lured in by the tune of revenge, the hymns of glory days, or the rhythm of horses’ hooves, men and women from all walks of life pass through Santa Anita hoping to be seduced, or looking to ensnare. This week, as he outlined for us in last week’s ending, Ace is looking to hire his liaison, or “go-between, for dealing with Mike, the underworld boss who was largely responsible for Ace’s sentence. The more I see of Hoffman’s performance the more I’m won over by his command.

For intimidation, he need only a sarcastic quip or a persistent stare. His most powerful weapon is his disapproval, which can causes young derivatives hotshot, Nathan Israel (played by Patrick J. Adams) to tremble while trying to give off an air of confidence. He becomes Mr. Bernstein’s latest victim when he questions the practicality of his financial recommendations. It’s unsettling not knowing if Ace will lose his own reigns, because even flashes of his “temper” forebode violent capabilities. I fear Ace without him ever lifting a finger, and that’s genuine power. His contempt can be so demoralizing that a blow to the head would be welcomed just loosen his stranglehold on your wits.

Israel is asked politely by his superiors to meet with Ace. Once in Bernstein’s penthouse the interrogation begins. Ace grills him about his interjections in the boardroom and what compelled him to question his requests to free up money to buy the Santa Anita track. His skepticism comes from deducing that he dabbles in illegal business that extends beyond the cocaine possession charge he took three years prior. Ace of course dresses him down, makes him sweat. When Nathan retreats to the “lavatory” he clues in Gus on his motives. He’s unimpressed by the kid’s smarts and ambition, as it takes style to thrive in this business. But he also recognizes that he could would make Mike’s skin crawl, making him perfect for the job of “go-between.” He offers him $1 million for a year’s employ humbling the cocky financial guru.

On the track, our four degenerate pals make a play for the horse Renzo lost at the claiming race. Jerry exhibits prowess as a negotiator, snagging Mon Gateau for $27,000 instead of his supposed market value of $40K. He also convinces Escalante to train him. At first, he’s reluctant, reasoning that he got rid of the horse because his legs are weak even after two years of rehabbing. Jerry then cleverly rebukes: “Guy comes to me about a girl I still have eyes for, I tell him she has crabs.” Escalante is a steep price, but the exhausting expenses don’t deter our “four amigos.”

The childlike wonderment in their eyes as they pet and feed carrots to their new investment suggests this venture was as much about fulfilling a dream as it is about the earning potential. Even Marcus, still loud-mouthed and blunt, forces a smile as he becomes acquainted with the elegant beast. Renzo can’t help but boast to complete strangers and Lonnie appears unaffected my the brutal beating he suffered at the hands of the insurance temptresses when he strokes his new animal companion. It’s touching to see these four appreciating majesty as opposed to feigning for their big play.

It’s a tough week for the jockeys as both Ronnie Jenkins and Leon take major spills. Ronnie is thrown from Walter’s horse, Gettin’ Up Morning, when the foal is bumped off the rail. Ronnie resorts to his diehard habits of snorting cocaine and downing whiskey to ease the pain of a broken collarbone (which he has apparently broken before lamenting that he breaks his collarbone more than he gets laid) and shattered pride. Leon smashes his head on the floor when he passes out trying to make weight in the sauna. The dangers and pressures of ushering these horses to the promised land is beginning to take its toll on the rookie and seasoned veteran alike, causing their agent Joey to stammer even more severely as his clients recover. In Ronnie’s case, he’ll be out 4-6 weeks, but as suggested by his relapse, his time might be running out completely.

As endeared as I have been with Walter, his story this week came off as a memory wipe. Because of Ronnie’s injury he’s forced to confront his decision to deny Rosie the privilege to be his jockey. His now routine monologue is him practicing what he will say to her, and though this deliberation gave me the warm and fuzzies watching the sweet old man get nervous, it amounted to little more than a complication. Despite Ronnie’s propensity for failure, he always had Rosie in waiting so I was never worried that Rosie would not get her shot. Nick Nolte nails his elderly regret as always, but the circumstances surrounding it were slightly contrived.

I had mixed feelings concerning the relationships that were ignited this week. A woman named Claire enters Ace’s life when she requests he fund her Thoroughbred Retirement Fund, a program that would pair up convicts with broken down race horses, but a spark was evident, and Ace expresses his desire to meet with her to Gus. The other was utterly devoid of chemistry. Jo, (Jill Hennessy) Escalante’s veterinarian, is aghast when he accuses her of mouthing off about Mon Gateau’s condition, resulting in the horse being claimed. She is rightly offended, but when he “apologizes” by hitting on her, she responds by sleeping with him later on. I interpreted their hookup as one predicated on convenience, and maybe even loneliness. But if there was supposed to be romance or affection there was none to be found. I’m okay with loveless sex, but the motivations behind it were absent.

Episode Three, proved to be a continuation of last week, but stood on its own two feet during the character moments. Ace in particular started to feel like a real person, and not just a generic ex-con set on revenge. Our four generates showed sides of their personalities that made them more relatable, and the adorable Rosie is returning! Overall, there was less to jump out of my seat for, and with the horse race sequence shortened the episode lacked that injection of adrenaline that keeps me attentive. Milch, Mann and company executed another fine episode with memorable lines and arresting moments of tension and transcendence, but the pivotal race next week and the introduction of Mike will offer the rejuvenation necessary to keep me and other loyal viewers revved up. For maintaining its stylistic brilliance, and allowing us to view our new friends through windows of delight and mischief aside from the pity and desperation of the past two weeks, despite the lack of thrills “Luck” proved “its got a good head” like Gus’ horse avoiding a collision, with a B+.

More gorgeous horse races, scheming, gambling and intrigue on the second episode of HBO's "Luck."

HBO doesn’t do small-scale. Sure, “The Sopranos” was a family drama embedded in the all-consuming network of the mob, and “The Wire” never neglected the personal struggles within the deteriorating city of Baltimore, but both shows required a steep learning curve (a few episodes) before one could fully immerse themselves in these familiar yet foreign expanses. There was no denying, however, the web of interconnectedness from the get-go. Everyone shared a commonality of experience, the impact of their worlds’s stranglehold, the futility of escape. Whether tied to a family, an occupation, a city or a way of life, these dramas always emphasized the love/hate relationship people have with the place they came from, and how indelibly linked its character is to ours.

“Luck” follows this formula. Last week, it was a universe that seemed impenetrable for outsiders and the unestablished connections between the track insiders had us scratching our heads. I was compelled by the grandeur of this well-oiled, horse racing machine. So many cogs were operating, but the functions of each gear eluded me. Then I remembered the insistence and the infinite wisdom of “Luck’s” predecessor, “The Wire,” “…All the pieces matter.” With that in mind, the labor of the pilot paid off this week. The table-setting paved the way for exploration, and as viewers we begin to recognize where the tragic threads are being woven. Revenge plots are being forged, envy and greed threatens the glory in victory, and opportunities to climb the ladder present themselves.

THIRST was the overriding feeling of the episode. Every one had a compulsion, an overwhelming desire. Some were fulfilled, some were denied, but none subsided. All are bitter about changing world. One woman even mentioned President Obama (referring to him coyly, and farcically, as the Muslim President from Kenya) in creating an analogy about broken promises. These are people set in their singular ways about prosperity and success and they won’t be satisfied with their latest score. They’re going to play the game until they win big or you lose it all.

Ace Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) already lost it all. We finally learn the origin story of his three-year prison sentence. He fell on his sword, taking the charge for his grandson at NYU, and an unseen associate, Mike. Mike was stashing his cocaine at a co-op apartment that Ace had purchased for business and entertainment. He allowed his descendant to use the place for raging parties and one night the cops crashed it, arresting the grandson on a lofty possession charge. Ace was offered a deal. His flesh and blood would be set free if he would divulge the name of the supplier. They knew it was Mike, but they required official testimony. Ace had never ratted on anyone his whole life, and though Mike would have snitched on him in a heartbeat he took the fall so both Mike and his grandson would remian free. Nevertheless, all’s not forgiven.

The business dealings of last week come into sharper focus as we learn Ace is planning to buy the Santa Anita track and convert it into a casino. What remains undisclosed is how this transaction will factor into his vengeful scheme, but he’s on the warpath, no doubt about it. Gus, “The Greek,” owning a horse is also a piece to the puzzle, but as far as I’m concerned the slow reveal of the details is earned by Hoffman’s portrayal of a sleeping giant. He exudes a slick poise, but on occasion will unleash a lion’s roar to alarm his partners about his grip on reality post-incarceration. He is dangling the bait, and we’re waiting for for one of his investment “pals” to bite. His bluntness and sarcastic debonair make him both fearful and likable. His sinister unveilings of payback have you rooting for his badass “Bernstein temper” side and his tender reflections with Gus at day’s end bring him down to earth, like a Grandpa with lessons of hard work and determination to impart.

Our four “degenerates” come across some difficulties adjusting to their newfound fortune. Jerry’s gambling addiction runs rampant with the recent influx of funds and his willingness to keep playing despite huge losses reaches dangerous levels. He loses $7,000 in one night only to return the night after. But as he watches his thousands of dollars in chips slip through his fingers, his resolve to win only strengthens. When he barely ekes out the biggest pile of the night he’s floating on a cloud, impervious to harm, but with such a large margin or error and so little willpower to walk away, we might as well start counting the days until either the thrill of the chase overtakes him.

Renzo appears to be the most kind-hearted, if  not the most childlike, of the four, and wishes to repay his gratitude through a grand gesture. Now that he can afford to, he wants to lay claim to a horse. In order to manipulate the odds, trainer Turo Escalante (John Ortiz) enters his horse Mon Gateau (one of the degenerates’ Pick Six winners) into a claiming race. The only hitch is Renzo is eyeing that horse. With all the  good karma surrounding it, after it proved to be key to their jackpot, Renzo figures he should scoop it up as the perfect gift to the group. When Mon Gateau wins the race, validating Renzo’s interest, he’s hopeful that he will capitalize on his investment. But another claim was put in. A man named Mulligan had gathered the same intel and after drawing marbles, Mulligan wins the horse.

Marcus, my favorite of the group right now because of the biting insults and his weathered voice of reason, is disgusted by Jerry and Renzo for flaunting their money. He feels they are asking to be targeted by those willing to resort to violence to obtain their winnings. They are relatively tame in their extravagance, however, compared to Lonnie, who dons a new suit and hat. Marcus has a fit. Lonnie’s stray remark about “having two insurance women pay him to f**k” is also explained. Supposedly, these two women are indeed insurance agents, and they have orchestrated a scam involving Lonnie and a fabricated “slip and fall” (watch out for the irony in this term, I’ll come back to it toward the end of the review). As Marcus had predicted though, they learned of his recent cash infusion and change the plan. They took out a life insurance policy in his name and after seducing him and spiking his drink, attempt to kill him. As (wait for it) luck would have it, during their scrum they break through the motel window and a passerby whisks him away and drops him off outside of Renzo and Marcus’ room.

On the track, Escalante is furious after Mon Gateau is claimed and suspects Leon of loose lips. Preoccupied, he fumes at Gus when he makes a innocuous remark about his horse’s condition. Escalante takes a lot of pride in his expertise and when that authority is challenged, or undermined in anyway, consequences (inadvertent or otherwise) are to be expected. Earlier in the episode, Leon did confide in his agent, Joey Rathburn, wondering whether the horse that was put down last week wasn’t fit to race, and Escalante knew beforehand. It’s a heavy allegation and Joey says that he should just keep his mouth shut and ride exactly as Escalante advises. On a side note, Escalante continues to strain my ears with his thick accent, but David Milch and his writing staff are very aware. Another character references it, “I must need a vacation because I just understood everything you just said.”

Rosie, the ravishing Irish women who’s employed as exercise rider by Nick Nolte’s Walter Smith, makes a bold move and requests that she be Gettin’ Up’s jockey. She has established a strong rapport with the horse who continues to dazzle in workouts, but Walter has his doubts. Evidently, horse racing is a man’s world, but Rosie’s humble perseverance give Walter pause. Wanting the best for his horse he hires a Kentucky Derby-winning jockey, Ronnie Jenkins, who seems like the sure bet. Little does he know that Ronnie has a drinking problem and may have passed up the better candidate. In a kind gesture though, Walter asks Joey Rathburn (also Ronnie’s agent) if he’ll put in a word for Rosie at another track, Portland Meadows, and set her up with a good agent. Yet that wasn’t the moment most worthy of Walter’s highlight reel. During his discussions with Ronnie, he recalls how Gettin Up’s father, Delphi, was murdered. When his owner, “The Colonel,” (it is never made clear if he meant the KFC founder or not) the men who took over his farm spent irresponsibly and killed the horse for the insurance policy. He laments over what he could have done to stop it, and describes the sound of horses’ legs breaking as branches snapping. Nolte’s delicate treatment of this tortured soul has already won me over, along with the easy-on-the-eyes Kerry Condon as the trailblazing Rosie, I wish him the best in the episodes to come.

Some will complain that show moves too slow, but I would argue that with all the pawns being put in place for the endgame, maybe it moves too quickly. Because the intrigue is mounting. Balls are rolling as tensions rise and each character offers their own vibrance and zeal. Milch’s dialogue contains a firecracker wit, that adds a bounce to the deliberate pacing. Much like the horse races themselves, the show is high stakes, and as the characters’ need to quench their thirst becomes more desperate, the more invested we become in their “slips and falls” and who/what else will stumble in the quakes and aftershocks. Like Jerry at the poker table, each loss only drives me to come back and leave with the whole pot. The payoff is nowhere in sight, but my fixation on its possibilities match the yearning that intoxicates the “Luck” universe. The joys quickly fade, giving way to the race that lies ahead. Risk is equaling reward so far, as David Milch goes all in. For the audacious cast, the haunting sense of place, and the commitment to thematic balance (the scores and the failures, the lively thrills and the deathly devastations) HBO’s gamble comes out of the second turn (with seven episodes of ground to cover before we reach “the straightaway”) ahead with an A.*

*As of January 31, HBO showed great confidence in “Luck,” after over 3 million watched the series premiere, renewed the show for a second season.

Rhode Island will lose revenue if Massachusetts passes a law legalizing casinos first, according to supporters of a plan to allow poker, blackjack and other table games at a northern Rhode Island slot parlor.

The supporters claim the state could lose up to $100 million from residents traveling to Mass. to gamble more freely.

State lawmakers voted to put casino legalization on next year’s ballot recently, forging a new step in favor of the plan’s supporters. Voters will be asked to allow the Twin River slot parlor in Lincoln to include table games.

“The threats from Massachusetts are real — just a matter of time before the Commonwealth unveils its own gaming plans,” said Twin River spokeswoman Patti Doyle.

Twin River says that Rhode Island would gain an estimated 650 jobs and $60 million in state revenue if the ballot question is approved.

However, voters recently turned down the motion to authorize casinos in 2006 after the Narragansett Indian Tribe’s request to open a casino. Voters must approve casinos, according to state law.

“Every time this comes up it’s rejected,” said state Rep. Michael Marcello, D-Scituate. “At some point you have to respect the will of the voters. I think our time would be better spent trying to find other ways to bring more high paying jobs into the state.”

Many believe the attempts are failing because of fear of gambling addiction.

“The people of Rhode Island see it’s a false hope,” Rev. Eugene McKenna, president of the Citizens Concerned About Casino Gambling, told the Associated Press. “So many people know somebody whose life has been ruined or seriously harmed by addiction. People realize casino gambling is not economic development.”

The spirit of competition may well be the driving force in this race. Rhode Island does not want to lose money to Massachusetts, and is determined to be first.

“We’re last in line in everything we do in Rhode Island,” said Tony Mazzotti, 80, of Cranston in an AP interview. “The state needs every penny it can grab. And if we don’t grab it, Massachusetts will.”

Love NASCAR? What about watching the Daytona 500 on over 50 big screen high-definition TVs? Foxwoods Resort Casino’s High Rollers Luxury Lanes wants to give you $50,000 to do just that.

The first 100 NASCAR fans to arrive at High Rollers on Sunday, Feb. 20 can predict the top five finalists in the race. Those who pick the winners in the right order will win a whopping $50,000.

All guests, winners or not, will enjoy food from an extensive menu of appetizers, salads and sandwiches and can chug it all down with ice cold beer and delicious cocktails.

Doors open at noon, so if you want a chance at the big money, you’d better get there right on time!

Details

When: Sunday, Feb. 20, 2011. Doors open at noon. Race begins at 1 p.m.

Where: High Rollers Luxury Lanes and Lounge, Foxwoods Resort Casino, Mashantucket, CT

Price: No cover charge!

For lane reservations and more information, call 860.204.6366 or visit www.HighRollersFoxwoods.com.

Tired of all the cheesy hometown Labor Day parades? Who needs to see an endless — and ear-bleedingly loud — row of marching bands anyway?

This Labor Day weekend, Foxwoods resort and casino in Mashantucket, Conn., is giving you the chance to party like a celebrity — and with one. Actor Kevin Dillon, who plays Johnny Drama on the HBO hit series “Entourage,” is celebrating his birthday in style at SHRINE lounge and nightclub at Foxwoods’ MGM Grand.

While some of your friends will be voting for the parade’s best float, you’ll be drinking and dancing with Kevin Dillon to the tunes of DJ Clinton Sparks, a Boston-native who is Diddy’s official tour DJ. Sparks, who is also an E! Entertainment correspondent, is a multi-platinum producer who has worked with Beyonce, Akon, the Notorious B.I.G, Dr. Dre, Kanye West…and the list goes on!

The festivities begin at 9 p.m. on Saturday, Sept. 4. For more information, go to shrinemgmfoxwoods.com or call 860-312-8487.

The New Jersey Casino Control Commission approved the acquisition of the state’s Tropicana Casino & Resort by an entity owned 46 percent by affiliates of Carl C. Icahn, according to a statement released this week.

According to the Icahn group, this move clears the way for the embattled Tropicana organization to emerge from bankruptcy, in a transaction that is expected to be completed early next week.

Icahn said, in the statement, that “he was extremely pleased that the Casino Control Commission’s approval had been granted and that he wished to thank the New Jersey Casino Control Commission, as well as the Division of Gaming Enforcement, for working so assiduously.”

“There will undoubtedly be tough sledding ahead for Atlantic City, especially in light of the increasing competition from neighboring states,” Icahn said. “However, I believe that Atlantic City, with its beautiful beaches, can again become a premier destination resort. For this to come to fruition, casino hotels must invest capital not only in their own resorts but also in ‘major events’ that will draw gamblers away from competing states.”

Tropicana will emerge from bankruptcy, having erased most of its debts.

One of the most prolific American financiers, Icahn owns more than 11 percent of video game maker Take-Two Interactive. In 2008, he sold American Casino & Entertainment Properties to a Goldman Sachs-backed group for $1.3 billion. Last month, he purchased Fontainebleau Las Vegas, LLC for $150 million.

I’ve been in a pissy mood lately when it comes to card games.

Since moving to Boston in 2002, it’s been all poker, poker, poker. I like poker. I’ve made money at poker. I’ve paid for a trip to Vegas in the Harrah’s poker room. Though, I’m an awful tournament player (ask Mark Scalia).

It seems like computerized card games have boiled down to solitaire and poker, with every geek’s dream of going to the World Series.

I didn’t learn how to play poker for real until college. Growing up, we had two games: setback with my friends and pinochle with the family.

I’ve been really pleased to see Pinochle making an appearance on more and more commercial products, but no one has gotten it right yet with the rules and the artificial intelligence. (you’ll see an Old Shoebox article in a few weeks about someone who DID get it in 1993)

Reel Deal Card Games ’09 includes but doesn’t at all understand pinochle, but I’m not going to dwell on that fact any longer.

What you do get is more than 80 games and free online multiplayer, which is nice, but there aren’t exactly a ton of people lining up to play.

Phanton EFX, the game’s publisher, did manage to put together a good platform. What they should have done was give it away and just sell advertising on the multiplayer servers.

The artificial intelligence, while cute and often entertaining, is just really stupid. They get the rules wrong a log, they bet, raise and fold without any obvious reason in the poker games, but most of all they just aren’t programmed to understand the subtle nuances of most of the complicated games. (pinochle)

The game, packaged on two CDs, includes Harts, Bridge, Cribbage, Canasta, Golf, Rummy 500, spades, War, Pinochle, Gin, All Fives, Wist, Euchre, Pitch, Old Maid, Spite & Malice, Go Fish, Skat, Pepper, Crazy Eights, Memory Match, seven poker games, Blackjack, and 45 solitaires. As you play the games, you earn points towards virtual prizes, and that’s just ducky.

If you’re looking for a PC cards game, I’ve seen worse, and better.

Sections of the Monte Carlo hotel and casino in Las Vegas caught fire around 11 a.m. Friday, forcing guests and employees to flee the fire and falling flaming debris.

Firefighters could be seen battling the blaze from the roof of the hotel, with flames coming from the southern section on the top floors.

Las Vegas ABC affiliate KTNV reported the fire was nearly knocked down within two hours with the west wing contained and the south wing fire nearly contained.

When all was said and done, 17 people were taken to area hospitals with minor injuries, and none of the 120 firefighters involved in putting out the blaze were injured.

Welders were working in the general vicinity of where the blaze broke out, but so far fire officials are not commenting on a possible cause.

The 3,000 room hotel staffed by more than 3,000 employees was built in 1996 for $344 million and is owned by MGM Mirage.

There was no mention of the fire on the website for the AAA Four Diamond-rated hotel and casino.

A 1980 fire at the old MGM Grand (now Ballys) killed 84 and injured 700. It was the deadliest fire in Las Vegas history. Since then strict fire code regulations have been enforced in one of the top tourist destinations in the country.