I don't even know where to begin with THE BIG SHORT. That's not because it's so great that I want to make sure each word I write about it is thoroughly contemplated. Actually, it's the opposite; it's such a giant mess that I barely want to spend time thinking--much less writing-- about it. In fact, I have to keep checking its IMDB page to make sure it's not a David O. Russell film. Because it wreaks of self-important pseudo-commentary that is more hollow and garishly humorous than it cares to admit.
First of all, there was never really a point in the film in which I can even make out what anyone was trying to do. All I remember is a lot of white male angst, spastic outbursts and shrill demands, then very quiet moments at home with their mildly supportive wives (who are more often heard than seen). Ryan Gosling's character constantly breaks the fourth wall (in a non-ironic and non-clever way) every few minutes, in an attempt to provide the obligatory "aren't these guys a**holes" commentary; Brad Pitt is the overly confident dude who every so often likes to remind the other jerks that he has the upper hand; Christian Bale is the unpredictable yet awkward loner who tries to break the system without any contact with actual people; Steve Carrell is the ridiculously hot-tempered, cartoonish finance guy who literally hates everyone and everything; Finn Wittrock and Max Greenfield are pretty much the sucka MCs of their own weak a** scheme. (Normally I would refer to each of them as their character names, but I can't even be bothered).
Guys, this is not worth 2+ hours of film (and definitely not all the awards praise it's been getting, but
But anyway, THE BIG SHORT is basically this year's American Hustle--uncomfortably strange, sporadically entertaining yet and overwhelmingly vapid.
Rating: D (* out of *****)
THE BIG SHORT is now playing in limited release, and opening nationwide on December 23.