Starless City

If any Christian is not fully convinced that the Western world is in a state of terminal crisis, then they should take a trip to the multi-million dollar Sydney Casino, also known as ‘Star City’. If this establishment is the jewel of Sydney's night life then we are in serious trouble.

The gambling is not the problem. That's been going on in Sydney ever since the first convicts tossed a coin to see who would have the privilege of burning down Richard Johnson's church at Circular Quay. The real clue is the decor. The designers of this monstrosity should have things done to them that cannot be mentioned in a Christian magazine. Even the old illegal casinos at Rozelle and Darlinghurst had more class then this piece of kitsch masquerading as sophistication (although I have been told that the Melbourne casino is even worse, if that is possible).

Lest our more faint-hearted readers not feel quite up to visiting this glorified shearing shed, I offer this set of first hand observations.

First, the building faces the water—but you can't see the water from inside the building! Someone spent millions to ensure no one can see the greatest harbour in the world (overseas readers take note!). In fact you cannot sit inside the building and see outside at all! You may as well be in the suburbs in your local pub. You just cannot see the stars from inside ‘Star City’.

Second, having obliterated the harbour, they have placed an enormous fish tank in the middle of the back wall. In this enormous fish tank are ... very small fish! They are little tiny fish just like in the fish tank back in my local pub (yes, we are back there again). Not even something spectacular like a grey nurse shark—just ordinary fish in the biggest fish tank in the world. The irony of this? The Sydney Aquarium is about a five minute walk away.

Third, the colour scheme must have depended on what was being remaindered at the end of year paint sales. The colour is blue. Enough said.

Fourth, there is a bar set in a fake grotto with a one-man band in the corner (on the night I went it was actually a one-woman band). This type of setting has not been seen since the heyday of Hugh Hefner and the Playboy clubs. The fake rocks go all the way up to the ceiling to create the feel of being in a fake island paradise.

Fifth, there are sparkle lights on top of the poker machines just like all those old films of Las Vegas back in the 50s. All it really needed was Sammy Davis Jr and Dean Martin to appear from behind the fish tank and meander through the sparkle-lit avenues between the punters.

Finally, the carpet was circa 1968.

I cannot believe that someone designed this, someone else approved it, someone else paid for it, and everybody thinks it's great! How did it happen? Here is my theory.

The outside world is obliterated so that reality becomes the rows of poker machines and black jack tables—there is no day or night, time is non-existent. This is a theme park for those who yearn for the mythology of the aforementioned Mr Hefner and the James Bond world of diamonds and glamour—but won't notice that it's not the real thing. This is nostalgia for what the rest of the world looked like in the movies we all saw as we grew up (end of theory).

Sadly, however, the reality is different. If you hang around the tables long enough you see the players slink off barely disguising their frustration. The auto-banks are lined up against the wall in much the same way as the pokies are lined up in the middle of the room. I am yet to see someone go from the poker machine to the auto bank to make a deposit.

Strangest of all, the people playing the machines just don't look like the people in the television ads for the casino. They look as though they cannot afford to be there. Where are the people who look as though they can afford to be there? Most of them are with us, going into one of the Casino theatres to watch a show. And that's the rub—the gamblers subsidise the theatre and a good slab of everything else going on in Sydney. Meanwhile, the privately run theatres around Sydney can no longer compete with the Casino in getting the shows (rumour has it that rather than charging rent to the productions running in the Casino's theatre, the Casino actually pays the production to perform there), and the Government gets taxes without having to argue their position with the electorate.

The picture would be wonderfully complete if they filled the fish tank with piranhas and a couple of leeches.