The retread of scandals and true stories are abundant in American cinema and our desire to see more of them rarely wanes. “The Luckiest Man In America” is the latest entry into the ‘based on a true story’ scandal genre, one that plays fast and loose with the facts (nothing new to these kinds of films) despite existing in a rather contained setting and timeframe. It’s a difficult film to wrap my words around, existing in a sort of forgettable yet fascinating limbo where I both appreciate and criticize the film’s ambitions. There’s a propulsive story undercut by its own repetitiveness, with a pacing that – much like television filming -stops and starts far too often to stay as engaging as it imagines for itself. “The Luckiest Man In America” presses its luck with one too many spins, becoming the kind of film that gets in its own way and unable to settle into an identity. It leaves you with an appreciation for some of its pieces but rather forgetful of the whole picture.
Written and directed by Samir Oliveros and co-written by Maggie Briggs, “The Luckiest Man In America” follows Michael Larson (Paul Walter Hauser), an ice cream truck driver from Lebanon, Ohio who despitea botched audition manages to get himself onto the popular 80s game show “Press Your Luck.” After a rocky start, he goes on an impossible run of “lucky” spins, earning more and more money with every press of the buzzer. Of course, this draws some unwanted attention from the studio executives watching upstairs, and they begin to suspect that he is somehow cheating. As the episode continues to film and the money keeps stacking in Larson’s favor, the tension rises as they try to figure out just how he is winning so much money and how to stop him before the show can’t afford to pay him. The film also stars Walton Goggins (“Fallout,” “The White Lotus“), David Strathairn, Maisie Williams, Shamier Anderson, Haley Bennett, and strangest cameo from Johnny Knoxville.
There’s a lot of things that “The Luckiest Man in America” does that feel tailored to my sensibilities. For one, I love a good behind the scenes telecast film, peeling back the curtain to show us how the sausage gets made. Even when its more distracting than necessary like it is here, I’m still a sucker for the inner workings of the guys in the booth trying to run a show smoothly. Powered by an excellent looking 80s aesthetic, it certainly captures the look and vibes of the early 80s, its cinematography always slightly grainy and incorporates plenty of VHS b-roll tape to transports audiences back to a simpler time. It highlights both the dress and tech of old, and really captures a constantly buzzing TV set. The problem is this attention to detail overtakes the scandal at hand, relegating it to the least interesting part of overall story.
It becomes pretty apparent from the beginning what Larson is doing, putting the audience one step ahead of everyone else actively working to slow down his win streak. And that would be fine if “The Luckiest Man In America” was actually about CBS Studios and the game show itself, but it’s not. The film anchors itself to Larson (Hauser) and his questionable financial and life choices.
No one does weird creep with a lovable charm quite like Paul Walter Hauser, and he’s quite good as the film’s complicated lead. But as endearing as Hauser is, we are never really let into who Larson actually is as a character and/or real life person. We’re lead to believe that he is pretty dishonest but is doing everything for the right reasons, but never commits to this arc enough to make you feel as though you need to root for him. It’s not even that any of the characters are wholly unlikable; most of them are portrayed as complicated characters who don’t always make the right decisions and backstab in the midst of controversy but chalk it up to “that’s showbiz, baby” as a resolution.
It’s more so that no one outside of Hauser’s performance is memorable, even as familiar faces like Walton Goggins and David Strathairn play real life counterparts that most people raised in that era would probably recognize. I was far too young to ever watch something like “Press Your Luck,” and “The Luckiest Man in America” doesn’t do enough to establish any kind of phenomenon that the show might’ve possessed at the time. So you’re left with recognizing Goggins and Strathairn as themselves rather than the people they portray, and those characters are never given enough depth to matter. The film is constantly at odds with itself tonally, never committing to any one aspect or person to make the scandal feel bigger or at least big enough to justify a film about it. It’s so deadpan and muted but also wants to be exciting and layered, the two opposing ideas clashing against each other with every new scene. And look, the scandal is small by nature. So if you’re going to admittedly dramatize events you might as well add that drama. It should feel thrilling and be a sort of underdog vs big corporations (something it tries to do but way too late), but instead it starts to peter out quickly as it meanders about the backlot.
As disjointed as it may be, Hauser is giving it his all. Even when his arc starts to become inexplicable, he is really giving himself over to Larson and imbuing him with ticks and quirks that keep his game show antics interesting. It’s the framing of his character that never really allows us to get to know him in a way that rallies us behind him. “The Luckiest Man In America” struggles to come up with anything to say about itself or its scandal, and because there’s nothing and no one to latch onto it left me wondering just who this film was for. Add to all of that an abrupt ending that concludes little and rips away any of its effectiveness, and you’re left with a sense of indifference rather than something to think about.
“The Luckiest Man in America” feels like it’s on the cusp of discovering the right formula for embellished drama, but fails to land on the right panel and presses its buzzer too early.
Rating: 3 out of 5 Stars
“The Luckiest Man in America” is now playing in theaters. You can watch the trailer below.
