Plot
Richie Furst (Justin Timberlake) is a broke college student with a penchant for gambling and mathematical genius. However, when he discovers that he’s been duped out of his life savings on an online poker site, Furst throws caution to the wind and jets off to Costa Rica to confront billionaire gambling magnate Ivan Block (Ben Affleck). After being offered a job and drawn into Block’s extravagant world, it isn’t long before things start turning dark and Furst is forced into fighting for his life.
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| They couldn't believe it, right there...Cthulu. |
Review
On the face of things, Runner Runner has everything going for it: a popular, bankable cast (who just happen to be a big bunch of lookers to boot), an intensely in vogue premise with its finger pressed firmly to the heartbeat of modernity, a hip young director on the cusp of the big time and that addictive sense of utopian falsitiude; nothing good EVER happens in Costa Rice, though it does look damn pretty.
If there’s one word that best summarises Runner Runner it’s ‘unremarkable.’ It’s utterly and completely ordinary. And there’s no justification for it. It has a perfect set-up – gambling, internet heists, contemporary crime, exotic locations, beautiful people: its the ultimate concoction of modernity, an ostensible homerun. Not on quite on blockbuster level naturally, but in its own league of small-time hits.
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| Shiny, perfect, gorgeous...all empty space within. |
However, with an overwhelming sense of superficiality supported by the limp and lifeless arms of the narrative, Runner Runner finds itself slumped in the gutter. Possibly with a bleach blonde whore in one hand and a wedge of sexy sexy money in the other.
Cast wise is where the film is at once at its strongest and at its most disappointing. Ben Affleck is a decent watch as the dark and malevolent Block even if his bad Bond villain routine remains a perplexing turn for the Oscar winner, and Timberlake plays his cooler-than-cool, better-man shtick with well-practiced aplomb, though the act does start to feel tired before the final credits role. Elsewhere however, Gemma Arterton (the only female role) is exclusively a clothes rack, pouting about the place in a conveyor belt of increasingly revealing party gowns while the film’s bucket full of small-time, supporting roles are largely indistinguishable in their aggressive beardyness. _______ CIA agent is particularly painful; his dialogue screams of half-arsed comic relief, while the real comedy comes from his schizophrenic role in the film itself.
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| She had no idea her leg was on fire. |
Runner Runner wants to be intelligent, tries so hard to be taken seriously in a ‘holier-than-though try and keep up sort of way’ (which Oceans 11 perfected) – like that one annoying kid in class with their arm attacking the air like a fleshy spear each time the unwitting teacher asks a question – but it’s hopeless. For all of the gambling jargon it throws at the audience with a wink and a nudge, it moronically nails some poor stereotype or crippling metaphor to the wall.
Every Costa Rican is crime-lord murderer, didn’t you know? And there are identikit bikini-clad hookers everywhere. Costa Rica is obviously some sort of personification of Sin, though here it’s less ‘apocalyptic binary power to the grace of God himself’ and more ‘snorty-snorty angry Hispanics in a pool party.’
Runner Runner is undoubtedly a cool production, it has the sort of swagger and style reminiscent of the suavetastic Oceans 11, even if it doesn’t come remotely close to hitting such heights. It’s got some decent action beats – crocodiles are always cool, like impy dinosaurs – and can get a good pace going whenever it feels like and stops pretending to be smart. But there just isn’t enough. It’s the sort of film that makes for a cracking poster (it's even got that totally cool 'words over the top' thing going on which didn't become tired two years ago)…and little else.
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| Ben Affleck's chin...what's going on there? |
Verdict
A sad state of affairs. It was never going to be brilliant but…Overwhelmingly superficial and totally weightless: a resolute declaration of ‘meh.’
2/5
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