Lucky You

I sat quietly by while lunatics heralded the perfectly decent LA Confidential as the new Chinatown(!). I nodded politely when others decided that the solidly competent Wonderboys was a masterpiece for the ages. I even smiled in agreement when 8 Mile was trumpeted as a new benchmark for pop vanity flicks. I can be silent no longer. Director Curtis Hanson may have a great film in him, but I have yet to see it. What’s more, going by In Your Shoes and this latest sinking ship, I probably never will.
Several bizillion fashion years have passed since poker became modish on the playgrounds, so Lucky You is, apart from anything else, a bit like seeing a film about rival Rubik’s cubers. Eric Bana plays a pro-poker player hoping to buy into the World Series, thereby escaping the vast oedipal shadow cast by his two-time champion daddy (Duvall, wasted). When Eric meets waitress-with-a-heart-of-gold Drew Barrymore, it’s an excuse for a dreary tutorial on the devil’s picture book and the first of a million poker-as-life metaphors. You have to know when to hold. You have to know when to fold. It’s like listening to a skipping version of the Kenny Rogers song for 124 minutes.
Meanwhile father and son keep playing cards. Son and Drew keep splitting up and getting back together again. The effect is like someone swinging a watch before your eyes with the words “You are feeling sleepy. Verrry sleepy.” Yes. Sleepy enough to dream I was watching The Hustler instead.