I rented this movie on the recommendation of an enthusiastic pharmacist who, while filling my prescription, went into great detail about how amazing the trick shots were. He was right. The trick shots were pretty cool. It's the movie that sucks.
What we have here is perhaps the least original movie ever committed to celluloid. I am amazed that so many names were willing to stoop to the level of appearing in the film. Perhaps they were all starving for the chance to spew some tough-guy dialogue, and lord knows there hasn't been any talented people writing tough-guy dialogue for a long time. Unfortunately this movie doesn't offer any respite.
Mars Callahan (who? exactly!) wrote and directed this movie. Methinks he spread the peanut butter a little thin. One would hope that, since he apparently doesn't have a shred of originality in his body, Callahan would have focused on more expertly crafting his film. But no. This sketch is strictly paint-by-numbers. Most of the plot is ripped wholesale from The Hustler. There are some scattered elements stolen from other movies, and they are stitched together with all the beauty and finesse of a Frankenstein monster. The seams are numerous and visible.
This is our story: Apparently our hero, whose name I do not remember, is a pool prodigy. At a young age he decides he wants to become a pro. But not a hustler - hustlers are criminals and petty thugs. This kid is so good that a special spot is created - a fifty-first spot out of fifty - so that he can partake in a tournament. Then we're supposed to believe that the tournament team would only send a single letter inviting him to the tournament. That in fifteen years he would never run into anyone who would say, `Hey, why didn't you show up for the tournament?' That in fifteen years nobody would come looking for this amazingly talented kid. Yes, it's patently ridiculous, but the title card says `fifteen years later' so I guess we have to believe it.
So fifteen years later our hero is, naturally, a pool shark. Is this a shocking plot twist? Not really. This is the type of movie where you know the minute someone says something like `We're not going to have a party at my parents' house! No way! Not gonna happen!' that there will then be a lightning-fast, comedic cut to a raging party at that person's house, complete with the kid screaming about the damage everyone is doing to his carpet. Can we really expect a movie that stoops this low to have anything new or interesting up its sleeve?
Within seconds of the fifteen-year mark our hero finds out that his bookie screwed him, so he screws his bookie. The writer/director manages to make this scene completely powerless and ineffective. He seems to think that peppering his speech with contrived and forced-sounding `fucks' and `niggers' will make it sound authentic. But it just sounds contrived and forced. Like someone who owns every Quentin Tarantino DVD and watched them, over and over, trying to figure out the pattern to the dialogue (Three words then a `fuck'! That will make it sound cool!). Callahan is so creatively bankrupt that he even includes one particular tough-guy brag TWICE (albeit with a slight alteration). I'm guessing he thought this would be funny. Instead it sounds forced and stupid.
So our hero then tries to go straight, selling his pool cue (right) and taking a construction job (right). But, although he is supposedly surgically gifted with his hands, he cannot even drive a nail into wood without bending it. Then, in a shocking and heartbreaking scene, we learn that the construction business is corrupt. Our hero will have none of that. So he ends up hustling again. Somewhere along the way he meets Ricky Schroeder, but I forget why.
The already sinking movie is dragged completely down with the introduction of our hero's stereotypical, ridiculous society girlfriend whom I can only call Annoying Bitch. Annoying Bitch spits out the standard `no man of mine will make a living hustling!' speeches with zero conviction, and after our hero hustles her boss in an attempt to win her a job at a tony law firm, she dumps him in the standard hack screenwriter style. You know, one of those loud party scenes where everything would be fine if the screaming shrew would only shut up for five seconds and let the guy finish a thought. But of course this doesn't happen, and of course she leaves him, and the movie drags on.
I wish I could tell you what happens after this, but this is the point at which I shut the movie off. I just couldn't take it anymore. As usual, the only bright spot in this film is watching Christopher Walken sink his teeth into a role that is not worthy of his time. By refusing to spit out the word `fuck' every two seconds he elevates his scenes a great deal - and even gets a good joke in about our hero's hair. I should also tell you that this joke is the only funny joke in the movie. The rest is leaden one-liners; tired sitcom relationship humor; and crappy, ancient bar cons that the writer apparently got out of a library book, and which would only get the bettor beaten like a rented mule in a real bar.
There is nothing redemptive about this movie. Nothing at all. It is a complete waste of time.
What we have here is perhaps the least original movie ever committed to celluloid. I am amazed that so many names were willing to stoop to the level of appearing in the film. Perhaps they were all starving for the chance to spew some tough-guy dialogue, and lord knows there hasn't been any talented people writing tough-guy dialogue for a long time. Unfortunately this movie doesn't offer any respite.
Mars Callahan (who? exactly!) wrote and directed this movie. Methinks he spread the peanut butter a little thin. One would hope that, since he apparently doesn't have a shred of originality in his body, Callahan would have focused on more expertly crafting his film. But no. This sketch is strictly paint-by-numbers. Most of the plot is ripped wholesale from The Hustler. There are some scattered elements stolen from other movies, and they are stitched together with all the beauty and finesse of a Frankenstein monster. The seams are numerous and visible.
This is our story: Apparently our hero, whose name I do not remember, is a pool prodigy. At a young age he decides he wants to become a pro. But not a hustler - hustlers are criminals and petty thugs. This kid is so good that a special spot is created - a fifty-first spot out of fifty - so that he can partake in a tournament. Then we're supposed to believe that the tournament team would only send a single letter inviting him to the tournament. That in fifteen years he would never run into anyone who would say, `Hey, why didn't you show up for the tournament?' That in fifteen years nobody would come looking for this amazingly talented kid. Yes, it's patently ridiculous, but the title card says `fifteen years later' so I guess we have to believe it.
So fifteen years later our hero is, naturally, a pool shark. Is this a shocking plot twist? Not really. This is the type of movie where you know the minute someone says something like `We're not going to have a party at my parents' house! No way! Not gonna happen!' that there will then be a lightning-fast, comedic cut to a raging party at that person's house, complete with the kid screaming about the damage everyone is doing to his carpet. Can we really expect a movie that stoops this low to have anything new or interesting up its sleeve?
Within seconds of the fifteen-year mark our hero finds out that his bookie screwed him, so he screws his bookie. The writer/director manages to make this scene completely powerless and ineffective. He seems to think that peppering his speech with contrived and forced-sounding `fucks' and `niggers' will make it sound authentic. But it just sounds contrived and forced. Like someone who owns every Quentin Tarantino DVD and watched them, over and over, trying to figure out the pattern to the dialogue (Three words then a `fuck'! That will make it sound cool!). Callahan is so creatively bankrupt that he even includes one particular tough-guy brag TWICE (albeit with a slight alteration). I'm guessing he thought this would be funny. Instead it sounds forced and stupid.
So our hero then tries to go straight, selling his pool cue (right) and taking a construction job (right). But, although he is supposedly surgically gifted with his hands, he cannot even drive a nail into wood without bending it. Then, in a shocking and heartbreaking scene, we learn that the construction business is corrupt. Our hero will have none of that. So he ends up hustling again. Somewhere along the way he meets Ricky Schroeder, but I forget why.
The already sinking movie is dragged completely down with the introduction of our hero's stereotypical, ridiculous society girlfriend whom I can only call Annoying Bitch. Annoying Bitch spits out the standard `no man of mine will make a living hustling!' speeches with zero conviction, and after our hero hustles her boss in an attempt to win her a job at a tony law firm, she dumps him in the standard hack screenwriter style. You know, one of those loud party scenes where everything would be fine if the screaming shrew would only shut up for five seconds and let the guy finish a thought. But of course this doesn't happen, and of course she leaves him, and the movie drags on.
I wish I could tell you what happens after this, but this is the point at which I shut the movie off. I just couldn't take it anymore. As usual, the only bright spot in this film is watching Christopher Walken sink his teeth into a role that is not worthy of his time. By refusing to spit out the word `fuck' every two seconds he elevates his scenes a great deal - and even gets a good joke in about our hero's hair. I should also tell you that this joke is the only funny joke in the movie. The rest is leaden one-liners; tired sitcom relationship humor; and crappy, ancient bar cons that the writer apparently got out of a library book, and which would only get the bettor beaten like a rented mule in a real bar.
There is nothing redemptive about this movie. Nothing at all. It is a complete waste of time.
