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'Heist' fails to steal the show

The new film "Heist" is the latest attempt from acclaimed playwright-turned-filmmaker David Mamet. "Heist" is a complex con-artist caper in the tradition of "The Sting" but vastly inferior.

The film opens with a small heist, a prelude to the larger scheme that becomes the focus. Gene Hackman stars as Joe Moore, an aging jewel thief and swindler, who decides to call it quits after a minor mishap allows his face to be captured by a security camera in the opening scene.

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Danny DeVito plays Bergman, a conniving little rat of a bank-roller, who forces Moore into pulling one last job before retiring.

Moore heads a veteran crew of thieves: Delroy Lindo ("Gone in 60 Seconds," "The Cider House Rules"), Ricky Jay ("State and Main") and Rebecca Pigeon ("The Winslow Boy"). She is also Mamet's wife and frequent collaborator.

All are wary of working for Bergman, whose greed dwarfs his small stature, but will follow Moore to the ends of the Earth and consent to do the job.

For Moore it's largely a question of pride. He welcomes the challenge and wants one last score to set up his retirement.

Bergman throws a wrench into the operation by insisting that his hot-headed nephew Jimmy Silk (Sam Rockwell) accompany the team on this last mission.

In many ways the plot reminded me of another recent heist film, this summer's "The Score." An aging thief who wants to retire. His fence who won't let him walk away. The "new guy" antagonist who you just know is going to cause trouble. But contrary to that film, which more or less works, "Heist" tries to do too much.

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The planning and execution of the heist is a mess of double-crosses and plot twists that ultimately leaves the audience tired and bored. Reversal upon reversal forces the viewer into the position of not believing anything that anyone says or does in the movie.

Jay, Mamet's favorite supporting actor, is arguably the greatest card trick artist alive. With "Heist," Mamet is playing the film equivalent of sleight-of-hand, but as I'm sure Jay knows, part of the art of magic is in fooling the audience into believing what is untrue.

One must make assumptions to be fooled. Mid-way through the film, I ceased taking things for granted and began to lose interest.

Another problem relative to "The Score" is that with twice as many characters to follow, none is developed to the extent that we really care about them. Hackman is a very entertaining actor to watch, but this is the kind of role he does in his sleep, and we never really know what his character cares about.

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With the exception of his relationship with Lindo, most of the character dynamics are superficial. So many of the emotions expressed throughout the film are disingenuous. The film never allows you to truly sympathize with anyone, for fear that your sympathies will shortly be revealed as misplaced.

The saving grace of the film is Mamet's witty and sharp writing. There are many lines of "Mamet-speak," which are total gems and are almost worth the price of admission on their own. Lindo describes Hackman's character as "so cool, when he goes to bed sheep count HIM."

It's hard to be intimidated by Danny DeVito, but as a sniveling wannabe mobster, he is right on. DeVito eats up lines like: "Everybody needs money, that's why they call it MONEY."

The pacing is off at times and I began to see the story as an excuse to get from one sequence of snappy dialogue to the next, rather than as a cohesive whole. I had the same reaction to "Made" last spring, the gangster comedy from the "Swingers" boys, Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau '89. That was Favreau's directorial debut and it showed.

Mamet's been at it longer. This is his ninth directorial outing. But I get the sense that he's got a ways to go before he masters visual storytelling. He's racked up Obies, a Tony and a Pulitzer but has yet to land any awards for his work in film.

This weekend, check out the new Coen brother's film at the Garden, "The Man Who Wasn't There," or "Tomb Raider" at the UFO.

Macauley Peterson is a contributor to The Independent Film and Video Monthly and the Princetonian Access Arts columnist. He can be reached at macauley@princeton.edu.