Frenetically paced, impeccably cast and thoroughly devoid of any genuine emotion, gravitas, coherence or joy, director Joe Carnahan (""Narc"") has created such a vacuous, two-dimensional shoot-'em-up, it actually makes one pine for the work of Tony Scott. As unsatisfying as ""Smokin' Aces"" feels when the credits roll, it is compounded further when the enormous potential of the pitch, the players and the premise all hit, and one can't help but think: ""What the hell happened?""
Jeremy Piven stars as Buddy ""Aces"" Israel, a beloved Las Vegas showman who, just as Frank Sinatra was rumored to during his heyday, develops a close relationship with the Mafia which takes a liking to Buddy. Over time, Buddy starts to buy into his own hype, begins to believe he's ""one of the guys"" and gets involved firsthand in a series of ill-conceived heists, which eventually lands him in the unfortunate position of mob informant for the FBI. Holed up in a luxury penthouse in Lake Tahoe, Buddy is hunted by a motley crew of movie clichAcs and absurd duos.
Carnahan seems to revel in the idea of taking unlikely partnerships and adding the ""x-factor"" that transforms them from ridiculous to original. Two black female assassins? Let's make them lesbians! A gang of neo-Nazis? Let's make them gay and dress them in spikes and helmets! All of these yahoos gets their own title card at the beginning of the film, which we later realize is the extent of their character development.
Surprisingly good in an understated role as Buddy's bodyguard and right-hand man is hip-hop artist Common. He has a simmering intensity that contrasts nicely with the over-the-top, desperately-in-need-of-Ritalin supporting players who enter a new dimension of ""chewing the scenery."" There are so many famous actors in so many insignificant roles that it really makes you wonder how this movie came to be. Making a drug-fueled, hyper-violent heist film (every character is trying to rip Buddy's heart from his body) with hip stars, a smart director, ironic performances by A-listers with accents and newly grown facial hair (a useless Ben Affleck), seems very much like the recipe for an incredibly entertaining movie. So why isn't it?
First, the film is humorless, save for a couple early scenes with a scene-stealing Jason Bateman and another where Piven channels Ari Gold from ""Entourage."" In a film this violent you need some levity to wash away the gore, otherwise it builds up and you're left with a pile of dead bodies with names you can't remember and a look of indifference on your face.
Second, while dramatic musical scores and likeable characters can really enhance emotional scenes in a film, the drama cannot solely subsist on these superficial elements if you want the audience to have a true reaction. Just because a likeable actor dies in this film, doesn't mean audience members are shedding a tear if all they know is that he was a good cop or a funny hit man, etc.
Filmmakers need to understand that the late '90s era of Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie gangster movies were popular with audiences and critics alike because they were fresh and exciting, not because they were bloody and dirty. You want us to feel for a character you kill off in your story? Earn it. Stop with the melodramatic orchestral scores, the unfunny, foul-mouthed banter between ironic duos and the seizure-inducing hyper-chaotic music video style editing.
You're not Hype Williams. You're Joe Carnahan. You're better than this. You all are.
