POKER FACE

Stars: Russell Crowe, Liam Hemsworth, RZA, Brooke Satchwell, Aden Young, Steve Bastoni, Daniel McPherson, Paul Tassone, Elsa Pataky, Jack Thompson, Matt Nable, Benedict Hardie and Molly Grace.
Writer: Russell Crowe; based upon a story and original screenplay by Stephen M. Coates.
Director: Russell Crowe

Rating: ★ ½

A national treasure, of course (whether that nation be Australia or New Zealand, who knows) but it’s been quite a while since Russell Crowe has been the central creative force behind a half-decent film. 

He has done giggly cameos in Thor: Love and Thunder, The Greatest Beer Run Ever and The Mummy, had some villainous fun chewing all the scenery in Unhinged and, was fine in a well-written support part in Boy Erased. But in real terms, his last good lead was 2016’s The Nice Guys (in which he played straight man to Ryan Gosling) and before that…probably, 2014’s Noah.

Given the career trajectory in which Crowe seems to be willingly hurtling, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Poker Face reeks like it does. With its alpha-male banter and millionaire’s playground vibe, his second film as a director (remember The Water Diviner?) is a genre hodgepodge - sometimes a Usual Suspects-type narrative puzzle, sometimes a fist-shake ode to mateship, all cut-and-pasted together with a slick shallowness that aspires to be at least Michael Bay, at best Ridley Scott (from whom Crowe had no less than five films on which to be mentored, and clearly wasn’t).

The film starts with a bush-set ‘70’s-era prologue in which five tight lads outwit a local bully in an impromptu poker showdown. Jumpcut to the present, by way of a self-indulgent sequence at a new-agey ‘wellness retreat’ overseen by an Obi-wan-esque Jack Thompson; wealthy tech magnate Jake (Crowe) has gathered those same boyhood friends for some high-stakes Texas Hold ‘em. Each is offered an enticement - keep the expensive designer wheels they arrived in, or play cards with $5 million house credit. Each has some backstory (though why Liam Hemsworth is hanging out with these much older men is never addressed), but…well, there’s your movie, right?

Sadly, no. Instead, we get subplot after subplot, each so diverting that Poker Face is soon careening off course -  a cancer diagnosis, unwanted pop-ins by family members, long passages of sensitive-male soul-searching (brought on by a ‘truth serum poison’, ffs) and an attempted art heist. So flawed is the structure that it may, in fact, be a homage to ‘80s-era straight-to-video dreck, so perfectly does it capture that sub-genre’s faux-macho posturing, bewilderingly silly plotting and retrograde use of women in support parts (Elsa Pataky’s chest gets a close-up before her face, so you’ve got that to look forward to, ladies). 

Crowe can’t claim disparate creative visions were at fault here. In addition to his derivative, uninspired direction, he reworked Stephen M. Coates’ script, affording the writer a ‘story’ and ‘original screenplay’ credit, but claiming his own ‘Screenplay by…’ and, in the icing on the vanity project cake, contributed five musical compositions. 

Local streamer Stan clearly backed Poker Face as a potentially prestigious piece of premium local content, the likes of which they’ve had some success with previously (I am Woman; Sunburnt Christmas; Relic; Gold; Nitram). But entrusting the project to a fading creative force like Crowe has left them holding the film equivalent of a 2-7 offsuit.