21: Monument to Mediocrity

First off, yes, it does make me sad that 21 the only film I've seen in the theatres for the last couple months is this tub of tripe. My excuse is that the Math Club wanted to go see it as an activity, and I like to support the Math Club in their activities when possible. (Also, at least my ticket was discounted, so I only lost $6 and two hours, rather than $9 or $10 and two hours.)

I've seen many movies that are worse than 21. And I'll say that the first hour wasn't even that painful. It started out as a film that glorifies the life of the mind, that glorifies working hard and being smart. Heaven knows we could use more films (and music and books and TV shows, etc.) that do this. But then it just gets... mediocre.

In a way, I'm not sure why I'm bothering with writing about this film. I'll keep it short. But it really does exemplify something decadent and disturbing about America. Or, no, maybe it doesn't. I mean, it cost $35 mil, and the film's already made that back plus a lot more. So, ok, America has bad taste. We knew that already. This is the way the market works. This is why we get mediocre films like this.

But back to the mediocrity: lead actor is remarkably uneappealing, really no charisma at all; plot "twists" are painfully obvious; characters presented as smart do idiotic things often; Kevin Spacey grates as smarmy math prof (ok, that one's rather personal); lots of sub-CSI swooshy effects of chips stacking up and cards being dealt in slo-mo... I mean this thing is a veritable "How Not To..." guide for directors. (I see now that director Robert Luketic also directed Legally Blonde, Win a Date with Tad Hamilton, and (ye gods) Monster-In-Law, so what did I expect, right? (I mean, when your career has been a downward spiral since Legally Blonde? Ouch.)) He can't even be bothered to provide some sort of reason for the lead and romantic interest to fall in love? One minute she's deliberately not kissing him on the subway, making him feel awkward. The next minute she's straddling him in a strip club in Vegas telling him to come up to their suite so he can fondle her against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the strip. Chemistry? Zilch. I've seen waterlogged matchbooks generate more heat.

Sad to see some good actors wasted, too. Kevin Spacey's been wandering the wasteland for a while after such a promising early career (Glengarry Glen Ross, The Usual Suspects, American Beauty). And Laurence Fishburne? Buddy, you didn't make enough money from The Matrix (and the two embarrassingly bad sequels) to avoid disasters like this?

The more I think about it the more it feels like it didn't even rise to the level of mediocre. As it went along I had to try harder and harder to keep from snorting my derision. (I rarely do this in a theatre, out of respect for my fellow patrons. Though I'll confess that eventually Mission to Mars broke down that respect to the point where I was laughing aloud by the end. I know Volcano did the same thing, too. Now that's a funny movie.)

Times like this I wish we were constructed, as a biological entity, to be able to be entertained by a film like this: Investors take $34 million into area where it could make a huge difference in improving the lives of the people there, sending along a film crew or two with a filming budget of $1 million to record the process of improving lives. Wouldn't it be great if that movie made $24 million in its first weekend and was profitable for the investors by the second week?

Well, wishes/horses/beggars/ride, right?