A Character Study: The Gordon Gekko

“Greed is good,” Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas) once declared to a packed auditorium in the 1987 classic, Wall Street.

Some of us beg to differ, as greed can rear its ugly fangs when that dynamic surge starts to turn southward ... and you can bet your buttocks that it will. Because this story hardly ends with a spectacular Manhattan sunset, but rather Greek tragedy of the most wretched kind.

Similar to the Rolling Stone, the blinding difference with the Gordon Gekko is the preposterous aspirations he beholds, including Napoleon-type dreams to conquer Wall Street and beyond.

“Greed works,” Gekko continues to the wonderment of the gatherers. And sometimes it does. Striving for a higher profit may produce temporary results, helping the bankroll swell to even greater proportions.

But then greed begins to infect you like a norovirus, seizing full control of your logic and better judgment.  

For instance, many players may hit their initial numbers, scoring a ten-G hit to cover a down payment on some new wheels.

But instead of tapdancing toward the cashier’s window, that inner Gekko kicks in. The imagination takes over. The Honda Civic in his scope morphs into a sky-blue Nissan Maxima.

Ten-thousand smacks suddenly isn’t enough.

The Gekko scampers back to the table to soak in more green and glory, hoping to eventually fatten those Gucci pockets.

In his mind, the Nissan Maxima is then replaced by an Audi R8 with a virtual cockpit.

“Tell me, Gordon, when does it all end?” asks his spry protege Bud Fox (Charlie Sheen). “How many yachts can you waterski behind? How much is enough?”

The rush that coincides with greed is killer – and the Gekko has an unquenchable thirst for it.

Inevitably, reality arrives in the form of that sneaky downward spiral. Every streak has its apex, and like gravity, conversely pulls the player back down to Earth. Only this plummet feels more like the swoosh down a toilet bowl.

The ten grand withers away to near nothingness, leading to a horde of regrets and self-loathing. And the Gekko doesn’t relent until greed has finally released him from its bionic grasp.

“Dump it,” says a dejected Gekko, whose massive stock gains just plummeted to unbearable lows in the film’s final act.

Darkness then falls upon his face, uniting him with a taste of stomach acid and heavy doses of depression and despair.

While the fictional Gekko later discovers that he’d actually been duped by the young whippersnapper (Fox), the casino version hardly feels any different. Only greed is the culprit here, having lured the Gekko into its invisible snare before spitting him out, leaving him to ponder what exactly went wrong.

A humbled, humiliated Fox, who wisely cuts his losses, escapes as the lessor of greed’s victims.

“As much as I wanted to be Gordon Gekko,” he admits. “I’m just Bud Fox.”

Yet, it’s Gekko who eventually pays the ultimate price, languishing in a prison cell to mull over a plethora of what ifs.

In a world full of Gekko wannabees, be a Bud Fox. At least Bud Fox departs with shirt intact.

- TB