This is a film that suffuses itself with dark cinematography, smothering the edges of shots in obscurity, as if to suggest the people inside of them exist in some sort of moral vacuum. And it is a film that treats its characters with a skepticism reminiscent of the Western.

Casino may be a gangster movie, but it’s also a very different kind of western: one in which the criminals are literally expanding westward as they push their empire towards Las Vegas in their own version of manifest destiny. This theme is made explicit in the film’s depiction of the mobsters’ lust for money, which drives them to do things like cheat on blackjack or even steal 25 percent of the slot machine take.

But it’s the characters’ obsession with being seen that’s truly remarkable, and this is where Casino really begins to shine. The film is filled with little moments, like when Ace orders the Tangiers’ cooks to put exactly the same amount of blueberries into each muffin or when a low-level hood starts itemising his expenses. These are the kinds of details that help to undermine the mobsters’ belief that they’re operating unwatched and unjudged, which is ultimately what leads them down the road to ruin.

As much as it’s a tale of greed and treachery, Casino is a powerful movie because it shows how quickly those virtues can be stripped away. It’s the ultimate morality play, a reminder that no matter how big and grandiose your ambitions, it is always possible to lose sight of your values in pursuit of the almighty dollar.