Iceman, too much filler, not enough substance to blow the load. Casting Michael Shannon was brilliance, but Ray Liotta was typecasting at its worst. Ray's probably a perfectly likeable guy, but an atrocious actor whose only success is attributable to our hard-ons for OC flicks. With Shannon's intensity, though, Iceman had the promise of something much, much more; the writers and producers just couldn't produce the money shot.

At the Sinatra Club was a complete fucking waste.

"Las Vegas was never the same. In the old days, the dealers knew your name. Today it's all gone. After the Teamsters got kicked out, the big corporations tore down practically every one of the old casinos. And where did the money come from to build the 'pyramids?' Junk bonds."
Sam "Ace" Rothstein