Wild Card

Saying a movie lacks an identity is almost cliche at this point. It sounds like some snobby, “I only review movies that played at Sundance” kind of pap you’d hear from serious reviewers. But when the truth is right there in front of you, you’re a liar if you don’t acknowledge it. This movie has no identity whatsoever. Sometimes, it wants to tell the story of a compulsive gambler with pie in the sky dreams and a penchant for bringing them crashing to earth. Sometimes, it’s about a guy who works as a sort of freelance “fix it” guy — bodyguard, heavy, what have you — who helps a rich kid find his inner strength. And sometimes it’s about a guy who helps his friend who got beaten up and raped get a measure of revenge against the attackers, which puts him in their crosshairs for revenge of their own. This is all the same guy. Any one of these might make a passable flick. Crammed together, they make for a muddled mess of start-stop storytelling, pacing like a kid trying to learn stick shift, and three tones that don’t go together whatsoever. And none of the three storylines are given nearly enough to be noteworthy, so when it ends — and it does just end — you’re left feeling no sense of closure or achievement. It starts slow, never picks up the most minimal of speed, and stops, without ever having decided where it’s going.