John Cassavetes' films have never been known for having a clear resolution or for their tidy, organised stories, but 'The Killing of a Chinese Bookie' just ends up taking the p*ss.<br /><br />It tells the story of Cosmo Vitelli, an LA nightclub owner with a dangerous gambling addiction that gets him into trouble with local gangsters who give him another option after he can't pay the debt: kill a renowned Chinese accountant working for a powerful West-Coast crime syndicate.<br /><br />The decision apparently forces him to question himself as a man, but really just makes him sweat every decision out and shout at everyone.<br /><br />To say the film is unbearable would be unfair. From it's appealing opening scenes, one might expect something of 'Mean Streets'' calibre (Cassavetes came up with the idea with the help of Scorsese, it turns out). However, after the actual killing of the Chinese bookie, the film spirals into a cinematic oblivion of unexplained escapes and inconclusive endings.<br /><br />Cassavetes seems to have wasted his many fine talents as the godfather of American indie cinema and ruin what could have been a very good film. Shame.