Listen to professional hunk Mark Wahlberg utter words like "apotheosis" and "obstreperous" without guffawing, and he's already won his riskiest bet in "The Gambler" — playing a literature professor.
This remake of the 1974 film starring James Caan and written as quasi-autobiography by James Toback bears little resemblance to the original, and wisely so. Forty years on, any attempt to emulate gritty '70s urban realism would come off as dated if not downright camp. But high style, artful mood-setting and strong acting all around are offset by what ultimately becomes more like a stream of music-video excerpts than a cohesive story.
Wahlberg plays world-weary, wisecracking teacher and high-stakes blackjack addict Jim Bennett, whose wealthy grandfather (hey, there, 89-year-old George Kennedy, nice to briefly see you) announces on his deathbed that he's leaving zippo to his grandson.
Jim's double life is witnessed by one of his students, casino waitress Amy (Brie Larson). After he turns on the charm in class, she quite improbably falls for him and serves as adorable sidekick/lover for the duration.
Jim, whom one observant casino denizen dubs "the kind of guy who likes to lose," keeps trading on the momentary psychological highs of big wins to dig himself into the deep dirt by borrowing hundreds of thousands from a United Colors of Benetton array of baddies.
These include a Korean casino owner; a loan shark and black-posse leader, Neville (the effortlessly entertaining Michael Kenneth Williams, making us pine for Omar from "The Wire"), and Frank (John Goodman), a money-lending gangster who looks like a cross between Daddy Warbucks and Freddy Krueger, spitting out curse-laden one-liners like a talking machine gun.
Both Wahlberg and director Rupert Wyatt, heretofore known primarily for "Rise of the Planet of the Apes," sit back and let Goodman play temporary chief gorilla for his too-few minutes on screen. We also see too little of Jessica Lange, a spot-on glam grande dame as Jim's heiress mother.
The action grows increasingly fragmented, dissipating the suspense over Jim's final gamble on his own life. The ending goes disappointingly Hollywood, complete with a groaner of a triumphant "Rocky"-style running scene. But a string of powerful performances, particularly Wahlberg's, and a killer soundtrack — including M83, Dinah Washington and St. Paul & the Broken Bones — redeem a middling entertainment gambit.
