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BY TOM MEEK
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123 MINUTES | ENTERTAINMENT + FLAGSHIP + OPERA HOUSE + PROVIDENCE PLACE 16 + SHOWCASE A slipshod movie about the world of professional-sports gambling and the reprehensible sods who shark its waters. Director D.J. Caruso and writer Dan Gilroy (who penned the abysmal Freejack and seems to think "fuck" should underscore every sentence) try to give depth to this formula by assigning pit boss Walter Abrams (Al Pacino) and his wife (Rene Russo) victimized pasts and a wide-eyed six-year-old daughter. Walter’s new meal ticket is Brandon Lang (Matthew McConaughey), a busted-up football prospect with dreams of getting back in the game and an uncanny knack for knowing who will win on Sunday. Essentially, they run a TV show and a 900-call line that pushes their betting advice on gamblers like penny-stock scams from the ’80s. It’s a quick ride up and a tough tumble down. McConaughey struts his (buff) stuff, often half nude and pumping iron, with Pacino’s Walter preening after him with homoerotic flattery. Everyone loves a winner, even a lovable loser, but here there’s only avaricious scum.
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