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During a stake-out of geriatric mob boss Primo Sparazza’s (Joseph Ruskin) Las Vegas home, FBI agents Carruthers (Ray Liotta) and Messner (Ryan Reynolds) hear a phone conversation in which one of Sparazza’s men reveals that the boss has demanded the heart of Vegas performer Buddy “Aces” Israel (Jeremy Piven). According to the fuzzy conversation, some mysterious Swede has been called in to do the job—for which he’ll get a million dollars.
Once word gets out that there’s a million-dollar bounty on Israel’s head, though, everybody who’s anybody heads to the Lake Tahoe hotel where Israel is reportedly holed up in the penthouse, heavily guarded and seeing no one but his posse and a steady flow of hookers. All of them swoop down on the unsuspecting hotel at once: a bail bondsman and a couple of ex-cops, the hit man known for his many disguises, the assassin known for his talent for torture, two girls straight from the streets, and three psychopathic, chainsaw-wielding brothers.
But the killers aren’t the only ones who arrive in Lake Tahoe, in search of Israel. Agents Carruthers and Messner show up, too—to get Israel out before it’s too late. Because if they lose Israel, they lose their only witness in the case against Sparazza.
Smokin’ Aces is a zany action-comedy-bloodbath that’s heavy on body count and light on story. Or at least that’s what it should have been. That’s what it’s set up to be. Sure, there’s a story—but it’s not that complex. Everyone’s out to get some strung-out has-been Vegas performer, who’s working on making a deal with the Feds. We get all the background information as we meet the motley band of characters, one by one, in a drawn-out Tarantino-esque introduction. Sure, it’s longer and more drawn-out than it probably needs to be, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. It’s quirky and funny and over-the-top. Then all the characters arrive at the same location, and mayhem ensues. There’s action. There’s suspense. There’s comedy. There’s fake blood by the gallon. And while it’s totally gruesome, it’s also…well…fun.
But here’s where things go horribly wrong. For some reason, the writers decided that their zany action-comedy-bloodbath needed to have some kind of a twist. A message of some sort. A point. So they suddenly change gears. I can’t tell you how, but I can tell you that it’s just not right. Zany action-comedy-bloodbaths aren’t supposed to have a point. No one goes to see them for their story. No one wants to be forced to care about any of the characters. And after all the action and anticipation, the conclusion is painfully anti-climactic. It’s long and drawn-out (and not in the entertaining way), and it doesn’t even make all that much sense. And it’s a shame, too—because Smokin’ Aces could have been a dementedly entertaining way to pass a couple of hours on a dull winter day. It’s worth checking out—if you’re into zany action-comedy-bloodbaths, that is—but it’s best to walk out as soon as the shooting stops, before the pointless story ruins all the fun.
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