Four stars. Rated R, for profanity, drug use and brief violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.5.18
Truth isn’t merely stranger than
fiction; sometimes it’s flat-out astonishing.
Molly’s Game is the mesmerizing study of
Molly Bloom, who — in a parallel universe — might have been the gold
medal-winning Olympics skier that she was trained to become, from an early age.
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| Having become master of her own high-stakes poker domain, Molly (Jessica Chastain) strides confidently through the room, fully aware of the impact she has on her all-male clientele. |
Or, maybe, she’d have blossomed
into the high-profile lawyer being nurtured by her academic talents.
In our world, derailed by a freak
accident and occasionally hampered by a rebellious spirit, she applied her
preternatural intelligence to become — of all things — the “Poker Princess”
known in upper-echelon circles for running weekly, invitation-only games for
some of the wealthiest high-rollers in Los Angeles and New York.
Her rise and fall — and rise and
fall, and rise and fall — is detailed with supernova intensity by famed
scripter Aaron Sorkin, also making a splashy directorial debut in this
adaptation of Bloom’s page-turning 2014 memoir, Molly’s Game: From Hollywood’s Elite to Wall Street’s Billionaire Boys
Club, My High-Stakes Adventure in the World of Underground Poker.
And yes, the film is as
breathtaking as that title.
Perhaps too breathtaking.
As Sorkin’s longtime fans are
well aware, his rat-a-tat dialog sizzles with the manic incandescence of
classic Hollywood screwball comedies, albeit on a far higher level of dramatic
gravitas: often laden with information dumps that demand not only one’s full
attention, but (couldn’t hurt) a college graduate’s vocabulary.
There’s a reason Sorkin’s
best-scripted episodes of TV’s gone but still much-beloved West Wing clocked in at a fast-paced 45 minutes; most viewers
probably couldn’t have endured more. The same narrative ferocity can be found
in any isolated 15 to 20 minutes of Molly’s
Game, particularly as anchored by Jessica Chastain’s hypnotically alluring
starring role, and Idris Elba’s equally powerful supporting performance.
Taken as a whole, though, this 140-minute
film is exhausting. Even too many chocolate milkshakes can overwhelm the most
enthusiastic palate, and — as director — Sorkin has over-indulged his writing
sensibilities. (Tellingly, this fate that did not befall his Academy Award-winning script for 2010’s The Social Network, when his efforts
were carefully modulated by director David Fincher.)
Molly narrates her own unlikely
saga, Chastain giving these events the stream-of-consciousness passion of a
seasoned sportscaster. As is his frequent custom, Sorkin eschews a conventional
linear approach for a three-pronged attack divided mostly between the “present”
— April 2013 through May 2014 — and the whirlwind events that began a decade
earlier. Occasional deeper flashbacks illuminate the childhood training
sessions under her disciplinarian father, Larry (Kevin Costner), by profession
a clinical psychologist and Colorado State University professor.
