What’s this? A cheating banker you actually like?

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What is a hedge fund? Can you clip it? Let’s not be silly. Hedge funds, like casino banking, are part of why 21st century finance is incomprehensible to Joe Slow.

Money becomes a commodity, numbers that crunch or multiply, not greenbacks in a suitcase.

Arbitrage deals with issues that lurk beneath the mud slime of Wall Street and it doesn’t matter that you don’t know the whys or the wherefores.

As a thriller, it socks your rocks. As a human tragedy, it bleeds.

At the heart of Robert Miller’s empire is the man himself.

Attempting to sell his business, he knows that he’s juggling figures and yet retains an air of confidence that over the years has evolved into arrogance.

What I do, he believes, is what I am, a player of not inconsiderable experience.

His family is his bedrock, from which he can stray with impunity because he understands the language of duplicity.

There are no boundaries, moral or otherwise. The skill is to use other people’s expectations to your advantage and not be a Gordon Gekko about it.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, his comfort zone is punctured by something money cannot eradicate. A separate reality, that of the streets, threatens his cultural facade.

Will the edifice topple? Will the concept of ruin become flesh?

Richard Gere has never been better.

His control of Miller’s psyche evokes trust.

The rich are from another country, it’s true. Gere breathes the elevated air of such a privileged position, like the man who conquered Everest.

He belongs. He knows he belongs.