In the shadows of the bright lights of Las Vegas, it’s last call for a beloved dive bar known as the Roaring 20s. That’s the premise, at least; the reality is as unreal as the world the regulars are escaping from.
Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets is a mosaic of disparate lives, teetering between dignity and debauchery, reckoning with the past as they face an uncertain future, and singing as their ship goes down. Filmmaking duo Bill and Turner Ross’ (Western) elegiac portrait—of a tiny world fading away but still warm and beating with the comfort of community—takes a beguiling approach to nonfiction storytelling, a foggy memory of experience lost in empty shot glasses and puffs of smoke.
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