I never expected a movie based on a song to be a masterpiece in cinema. The "made for TV category" suits this movie just fine. For a movie that aired on network television, this film is quite good. You have two stories intertwined: Brady Hawkes meeting his son and the history there and Brady's great skill as a fair and honest poker player. Billy Montana seemed a little to pretty to pass as a cowboy in the wild west, but the character's charm makes up for it. I was expecting the Jennie Reed character to be fleshed out a little more and maybe some more interaction between Brady and his son Jerimiah. For what the film is, it works well and is an entertaining way to spend an hour and a half.

Considering that this is a made-for-TV Western starring terminally bland and innocuous middle-of-the-road lounge lizard country crooner Kenny Rogers in the lead, I naturally had low expectations about this one. Well, my dire predictions about this picture turned out to be wrong. This feature ain't half bad. Sure, it's no masterpiece, but it's a most acceptable and enjoyable telepic oater inspired by the marvelously atmospheric hit tune. Rogers acquits himself with reasonable assurance and aptitude as wily, weary, worn-out, but still agile and astute itinerant poker player par excellence Brady Hawkes. Bruce Boxleitner is equally personable as Billy Montana, a flashy, cocky, wet-behind-the-ears aspiring gambler Hawkes befriends. Jim Byrnes' hackneyed, by-the-numbers script offers no unusual or surprising plot developments, but fortunately Dick Lowry's competent direction, Larry Cansler's robust, rousing, flavorsome score, and Joseph Biroc's handsome cinematography compensate for the trite story. The top-rate cast qualifies as another major asset: Harold Gould as a powerful, arrogant railroad baron, Christine Belford as Rogers' neglected, estranged wife, Lee Purcell as a plucky former lowly whore turned proud high society lady, Lance LeGault as a cunning, but honorable card sharp, and Clu Gulager as a mean, grasping brute with a secret grudge against Rogers. A subplot involving Rogers bonding with his long ignored son is handled with commendable tact and restraint, while the inevitable big stakes poker game finale delivers the tense thrills something nice. A sizable ratings smash, this film was followed by several sequels of varying quality.

This vehicle for Kenny Rogers has a warm avuncular charm. Rogers is not much of an actor, but he's mainly called upon to lend his considerable atmospheric presence to scenes in which others do (or attempt to do) the heavy lifting. And he's good at that: he doesn't chew scenery, he doesn't attempt moments of deep emotion, but his presence keeps the lightweight script from becoming an embarrassment.The movie is unabashedly sentimental, like a good country song. Plot elements are formulaic, but successful enough, and the direction shows a sure touch, never letting the movie get either maudlin or silly.A must-see for the Eight-Track-Tape crowd, but not a bad choice for those who just like a little unchallenging fluff now and again.

There is a part inside everyman, a restless yearning for freedom, for adventure, that is squelched by the confines of this modern world. "The Gambler" is a film that reaches deep within the viewer, pulls out this desire, dusts it off and hands it a six-shooter. This movie is almost primal in its intimacy and unflinching in its portal of a broken man, cracked at the edges, trying to grasp to life before it overcomes him.Kenny Rogers plays Brady Hawkes with an almost effortless, Burt Reynolds-like cool. But behind the charisma lurks demons that threaten to overtake him. I haven't seen Kenny Rogers in any other movie, so I don't know how much is acting and how much is not, but regardless, the performance is brutal. I don't want to spoil the movie for anyone who hasn't seen it, because the experience of this film is not one to be missed. It will stay with you. After the movie was over, I looked at the box and saw it was only a mere 94 minutes long. It felt like a lifetime had passed.