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At the center of the chaos is Buddy “Aces” Israel (Jeremy Piven), an egotistical Vegas performer who plans to rat out the Vegas mob. Piven is hanging out in the penthouse of a hotel throwing playing cards at prostitutes and waxing trash about how screwed up his life is. With a big price on Aces’ head and his whereabouts a known secret, it’s only a matter of time before someone whacks the guy, but who?

(Get it? It’s called “Smokin’ Aces” because the top assassins want to smoke or waste Aces. A double meaning…wow.)

I can understand why such high quality performers as Ben Affleck, Andy Garcia, Ray Liotta, Jeremy Piven, Ryan Reynolds were attracted to this project. It’s a fun idea with a ton of potential. The problem is that writer/director Joe Carnahan went artsy, and we all have to suffer.

First, there’s the dialogue. Never have so many people said so many lines that have so little purpose. Characters talk and talk and talk and talk and never really have anything to say. The dialogue at times is clever, but it’s never purposeful, and it’s often delivered in a machine-gun fashion.

Every criminal has to have a quirk. That guy’s a cross-dresser. He’s a master of disguise. They’re Nazis. She’s a lesbian. Ooooh! A sadist. That old guy is not who he seems. Ridiculous cretins like these will make you long for the thoughtful characterizations of Boss Hogg and Sheriff Roscoe.

The FBI agents suffer from a different type of ailment: they’re all somber and gloomy. Ryan Reynolds spends the last 35 minutes with tear-filled eyes stumbling from one room to a next like a wounded fawn. Andy Garcia manages to be stuffy, bureaucratic and overbearing simultaneously.

A wonderful ensemble cast has been assembled, and sadly, all they can do is mug the camera or stare bleary eyed as they listen to interminable dialogue coming out of their colleagues’ mouths.

Only Taraji Henson and Alicia Keys are able to rise above the mess. As a pair of assassins, their scenes together are more compelling than all of the other characters combined. Of course, once the bullets start flying their performances are quickly drowned out by the noise.

Shallow violent films only work if they are fun, but unfortunately the convoluted plot of "Smokin’ Aces" doesn’t even strive for this simple goal. Carnahan creates a narrative that’s more complicated than the Colorado Tax Code, and throws in a twist that you will figure out about an hour before he wants you to.

Skip this one, and rent one of Guy Ritchie’s mob movies instead.

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originally posted: 02/11/07 01:40:38
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