Smokin' Aces (DVD)

Wannabe gangster and full-time Las Vegas magician Buddy 'Aces' Israel decides to turn federal witness against one of the biggest mobsters of all time. Holed up in a Nevada hotel room while his manager tries to hammer out a deal with the FBI, he starts going stir crazy. But that's the least of his problems when word gets out that he's going to snitch on the mafia don. Hired killers appear from everywhere, determined to bring him down and get a cut ...
...thing standing between him and certain death are two dogged FBI agents.

After directing "Narc", Joe Carnahan became the go-to guy for edgy cop dramas. He was even in the frame to direct the third instalment of the "Mission: Impossible" franchise before a major reshuffle that saw JJ Abrams get the job. But if this confused bucket of sub-"Pulp Fiction" dross is anything to go by, we had a lucky escape. From ... more

Wannabe gangster and full-time Las Vegas magician Buddy 'Aces' Israel decides to turn federal witness against one of the biggest mobsters of all time. Holed up in a Nevada hotel room while his manager tries to hammer out a deal with the FBI, he starts going stir crazy. But that's the least of his problems when word gets out that he's going to snitch on the mafia don. Hired killers appear from everywhere, determined to bring him down and get a cut of a million dollar contract on his life. The only thing standing between him and certain death are two dogged FBI agents.

After directing "Narc", Joe Carnahan became the go-to guy for edgy cop dramas. He was even in the frame to direct the third instalment of the "Mission: Impossible" franchise before a major reshuffle that saw JJ Abrams get the job. But if this confused bucket of sub-"Pulp Fiction" dross is anything to go by, we had a lucky escape. From the funk-laced soundtrack to the preponderance of porn star moustaches and subtitled character introductions and constant cross-cutting between factions, you can see Carnahan is trying to do a Tarantino. Sadly it looks more like a derivative Guy Ritchie vehicle and not a good one at that.

The director has no finesse, throwing every visual and narrative device at the screen and hoping some of them stick. It makes for a messy and nonsensical experience. You know you're onto a loser when the film starts with an unnecessary subtitled introduction that could have just as easily been replaced by two lines of dialogue or a short montage. It's as though Carnahan is apologising for the shortcomings of what you're about to see. And if the director thinks it's that bad, it's not a good sign. The constant cutting between rival factions is an attempt to hoodwink us into not noticing the lack of personalities or coherent storylines. Instead of character development, we get confusing flashbacks and spilt-screen montages that are two swift too tell you anything. The result being that you don't care about any of the characters because you don't get to know them. The film stock changes from shot to shot as though Carnahan couldn't afford a full reel and the excess of wonky camera angles smacks of film school naivety. He can't decide what genre he's aiming for, so we get drawn-out conversations in the back of surveillance vans that tell you nothing cheek-by-jowl with nosebleed edited chase scenes and montages.

The pacing is uneven to say the least. It's a bewildering movie that won't touch you on any level and will make you question why you've just spent a hundred and eight minutes watching it and why anyone would want to make it in the first place. The use of noirish historical flashbacks labours one of the subplots and makes a mockery of the "surprise" twist. The big name ensemble cast feels like yet another stab at distracting from the dearth of characterisation and plot and a chance for all involved to pretend to be cutting edge. Mainly it's an excuse for them to grow bad moustaches and wear even worse wigs. The 1970s production design is a mystery to me - I just don't see the point of trying to make a kind of blaxploitation assassin movie in the noughties while attempting to make it look like it was produced thirty years ago. It's yet another bewildering glitch in this huge pile of toss.

I'll bet Carnahan wishes he could blames the myriad problems on the script, but seeing as he wrote it, he doesn't have that choice. It feels like a back-of-a-fag-packet idea and the subtitled introduction was probably his one minute pitch to the producers. Everything about it screams cheap Tarantino rip-off. The multi-strand narrative owes a huge debt to "Pulp Fiction", though lacks its flair and consistency. Not to mention the fact that many of its plotlines lead nowhere. But unlike that particular film, every time the characters encounter each other here, it feels contrived. The plotting ties itself in knots trying to get them together and when they do, they either kill each other or have a convoluted conversation that leads nowhere.

The central premise is too flimsy to support so many players, especially when they are so ill-conceived. There's no meat on their bones, leaving most of them badly drawn genre archetypes. The FBI agents are defined solely by their jobs, the female assassins have been stolen wholesale from "Foxy Brown", the face-swapping killer is from "Mission: Impossible" and the coke-hoovering magician has been seen elsewhere. The rest are a procession of freaks and weirdoes too outlandish to be believed; from the "Mad Max"-extra Tremor brothers to the bizarre ADHD karate kid and his indulgent grandma. They aren't characters as much as one-shot jokes. The dialogue is a handful of try-hard monologues linked by meaningless exchanges and lots of swearing. The only person that actually reveals anything about themselves is the crazy grandma that sums up her entire life in one long sentence.

The ensemble cast is largely wasted on this paltry project. Ryan Reynolds is a likeable presence on-screen. As FBI agent Richard Messner he's supposed to be the emotional centre of the film but isn't written well enough to truly exist. Reynolds attempts intensity, but with nothing to hang the character on his actions appear random and his relationship with his partner isn't strong enough. Ray Liotta is lumbered with the standard old guard role as Reynolds partner, unable to create a personality during his limited screen-time. Andy Garcia fares better in this respect as FBI head Stanley Locke. His character is much clearer, though this is mainly because of his role as in-story narrator. He's calm and measured throughout but showcases a slightly odd accent that doesn't sit well with his usual intonation. As the titular Aces, Jeremy Piven grows increasingly raddled, looking like hell beneath the David Copperfield tan and shoddy wig. He's belligerent, unpleasant and entirely deserving of his death sentence. You won't like him a jot, but that's the point of the role.

Of the supporting players Ben Affleck continues to try to reinvent himself as an actor instead of a film star as bail bondsman Jack Dupree. Essentially that means dressing like a 70s pimp, swearing and growing a handlebar moustache. Don't get too attached to him because he doesn't last long. Another actor attempting to be taken seriously is Chris Pine (last seen in dreadful Lindsey Lohan vehicle "Just My Luck"). Here he plays crazy and ugly as Darwin Tremor, throwing himself into the part but never rising above cartoon status. Alicia Keyes is the most believable of all the hit-men as Georgia Sykes, coming across as cool, professional and deadly. Meanwhile Jason Bateman puts in a corking cameo as a shady lawyer, giving good value as a pudgy, drunk ambulance chaser.

The supposedly original music by Clint Mansell harks back to the funk-laden 70s for its inspiration. It relies heavily on wock-a-chocking electric guitar and flute arrangements to try to bring some sense of uniformity to the film. There's also plenty of jangly Hammond organ and slap bass backed by insistent rhythms. However, it feels like he's aping David Arnold. And then he has the temerity to try to make you feel with low register piano and strings or faux-western humming chorals and guitar motifs. The rest of the soundtrack is somewhat eclectic, using old-fashioned soul for the lady-killers, hardcore techno and metal for the loony Tremors and bland rock for just about everyone else.

"Smokin' Aces" is a dreadfully derivative pile of post-Tarantino tosh. I wouldn't have been surprised if it came out ten years ago with a debut director at the helm trying to jump on QT's bandwagon. But Carnahan has no such excuse and he should be ashamed of himself, as should the big name cast that presumably signed on the dotted line so he could get funding. It is confusing, nonsensical rubbish that can't even claim to be style over substance filmmaking. It is shoddily made and extremely badly written. So much so that even a blind man could spot the inevitable twist. It also has the dubious qualification of being entirely misogynistic, portraying all women as either killers, prostitutes or killers dressed as prostitutes that just want the love of a good man. It isn't smoking so much as a steaming pile of sh*t. Watch at your peril.  

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