21 Black Jack Movie Review

Nice movie, and seems to be better when you realize it is based on a quite similar real story.

Greed is good and comes without a hint of conscience in “21,” a feature-length bore about some smarty-pants who take Vegas for a ride. Loosely based on the nonfiction book “Bringing Down the House” by Ben Mezrich, and adapted for the screen by Peter Steinfeld and Allan Loeb, this bankrupt enterprise asks you to care about a whiny M.I.T. moppet, Ben Campbell (Jim Sturgess, serviceable), who because he can’t afford Harvard Medical School (boo hoo), starts counting cards to rake in some serious cash.

The conduit to Ben’s journey of counterfeit self-discovery is a racially, ethnically, sexually balanced gang of other greedy bright things (the most appealing being Aaron Yoo, wasted as the kooky, sexless Asian guy), run by an equally avaricious math professor, Micky Rosa (Kevin Spacey on autopilot). Using a system of mnemonic devices, goofy hand signals and a talent for numbers, the team has devised a way to beat the bank. (In Las Vegas, Laurence Fishburne and his knuckles will have something to say about that.) Because Ben doesn’t want to use his poor widowed mother’s savings to go to Harvard, he decides to ditch his qualms if not his sense (because he really has none) and signs on.

And so it’s off to Vegas they go, where they count the cards, take the money and run. Amid the din and glare of various casinos, the director Robert Luketic, whose credits include “Legally Blonde,” engages in other dodgy business: he cribs from Wong Kar-wai’s “Chungking Express” period (Ben sits motionless as the world races by); borrows from the David Fincher of “Fight Club” (camera tricks for kicks); lifts from Martin Scorsese’s “Casino” (throw the money in the air like you just don’t care); and pays homage to universal whoredom by restaging the “Pretty Woman” shopping montage. He also tosses in some gleaming rides, a couple of PG-13 pole dancers and a Rolling Stones remix that both Dad and the kids can enjoy.

Ben ogles the chintzy glamour and the chesty blondes spilling out of their dresses, and the movie does exactly the same. He particularly likes it when his skinny school crush, Jill, clambers aboard and offers him a lap job, for which I hope the young actress Kate Bosworth was well compensated. Like everything else in “21,” Jill can be bought for the right price, as of course can Ben and, by extension, us. The filmmakers try to soften this idea mostly by furnishing Ben with a sob story. They turn his desire to attend Harvard into something tantamount to an inalienable right, one that’s impervious to ethical standards or personal morals, which means that “21” is either a very cynical or a very smart take on the power elite.