Despite a spirited cast,
Smokin' Aces
confuses.
Widely thrashed as a weak hodgepodge of Quentin Tarantino films,
Smokin' Aces
actually borrows from the lesser films that followed in
Pulp Fiction
's wake. Tarantino's 1994 masterpiece established a new subgenre of crime drama, one that explored the lighter, almost mundane side of violent crime via a
***image1***
densely threaded, nonlinear plot. Tarantino tapped directly into
Seinfeld
-era silliness, giving us
ruthless gangsters who weren't above debating the provenance of "
royale
with cheese."
Smokin' Aces
, as a mere imitation of imitations, has very little to offer that is original. It aspires to the style of
Ocean's Eleven
and the complexity of
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
, but falls short of even
Boondock Saints
. It's a confused and confusing picture.
In fact, the principal joy of
Smokin' Aces
is trying to guess which actor will show up next. Aces boasts an impressive cast of both familiar and upcoming performers. Along with crusty veterans Ray Liotta and Andy Garcia, stars of both television (Jason Bateman) and hip-hop (Common, Alicia Keys) make important contributions. As yet another gun battle ensues, you might find yourself jarred awake by such questions as: Is that Matthew Fox from
Lost
? (Yes, in an unbilled cameo.) Is Jason Bateman really wearing women's underpants? (Again, yes, and it's hilarious.) Do I really believe Alicia Keys as a contract killer? (Almost, but not quite.) And, most crucially, will Ben Affleck botch his accent? (Incredibly, he doesn't.)
The story within
Aces
is simple. Buddy "Aces" Israel (
Entourage
's Jeremy Piven), the hottest illusionist in Las Vegas, succumbs to delusions of grandeur and gets too cozy with the mob.
Naturally, things get out of hand for Buddy, who hasn't a clue about organized crime. In order to avoid jail time, Buddy agrees to testify,
***image2***
after which he's whisked to an FBI safe house (a Lake Tahoe penthouse suite). Once the mob learns of Buddy's whereabouts, it's a footrace for every crazed contract killer imaginable to claim the bounty of the "great white whale of snitches." A simple plot, perhaps. But writer/director Joe Carnahan employs the prismatic narrative approach made so famous by Tarantino, in which a single sequence gets multiple renderings from various points of view.
It's all fun for a while as Carnahan lays out the basis for his greasy, gritty tale of corruption. But
Aces
turns ultraviolent in the middle, finding hopelessness instead of meaning, and toward the end it gropes for a conscience that hasn't been properly established. The final scenes contain a ridiculous attempt to restore innocence and sanity to the film, but the further wrongs don't make things right.
