Flasz On Film

Directed by Craig Gillespie (I, Tonya) and adapted from the aptly titled book The Antisocial Network by Ben Mezrich, Dumb Money adds to the growing tradition of cultural moment stories like The Social Network or Air, as it documents the so-called GameStop short squeeze, which took place in the early days of 2021. Gillespie’s characteristic hybrid directorial style perched somewhere between David Fincher and Adam McKay allows us to refresh our memories a little bit – after all, it has only been a little over two years since the events of the film took place, and yet it feels like ancient history in some regard – and allows us to hold hands with Paul Dano as Keith Gill aka Roaring Kitty, a financial analyst turned Youtuber, who single-handedly and perhaps inadvertently started a micro-revolution where the little people showed the middle finger to the fat cats of Wall Street.  

Now, unless you’ve lived under a rock, you are probably well aware of what happened at this time because for a brief few seconds the news cycle wasn’t completely permeated about the growing death toll of the COVID pandemic, the development of the vaccine, or the fallout of the January 6^th attack on the US Capitol. But then again, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, and the GameStop crisis is not as well known as I think it is, simply because I happened to latch onto this news item sticking out like a sore thumb among vaccine news and frontline American politics.  

Therefore, at this point it may be worth to ask if a story like Dumb Money is worth telling at all. Why should I follow Paul Dano’s character as he follows his investments, or his family as they cope with his newly found Internet notoriety? Do we have to care about the detestable investment bankers (Seth Rogen, Vincent D’Onofrio, Nick Offerman and others) and their woes? Is there a story behind a nurse (America Ferrera), a student (Talia Ryder) and a GameStop employee (Anthony Ramos), all of whom poured their life savings into GameStop hoping that maybe they would pay off their debts and ruin the mood of at least one Wall Street douchebag? And the answer to this question is that it depends on how you do it. 

This is where things become interesting because Craig Gillespie et al make a few interesting choices to distinguish their movie from what’s around it and mitigate any risk of seeing their movie labelled with direct comparisons to other, rather successful and culturally relevant movies. At the risk of perhaps alienating some viewers, Dumb Money decides against following in the footsteps of Adam McKay’s school of satirical anger management and spend very little time explaining what’s happening. Now, this isn’t The Big Short so I don’t necessarily think we need to see Steve Carell describe Collateralized Debt Obligations as dogshit wrapped in catshit, nor do I think we require the movie to break the fourth wall every five minutes to give us the skinny on what just happened, as delivered by Margot Robbie in a bubble bath or a Michelin-star chef comparing the housing market to a fish soup made out of a two-day-old halibut. It’s not that kind of movie.  

Equally, the filmmakers could have pursued a more serious approach and turned their story into a spiritual descendant of The Social Network, which probably couldn’t have worked because none of the central character – I repeat: none! – had enough gravitas to carry the story and wrap the narrative around their own personalized drama. It’s not that kind of movie either.  

The kind of movie Dumb Money is – as I may have inferred in my own opening gambit – is one wedged between these two modes of operation. It’s Fincher-esque enough to make its dramatic exploits compelling and self-aware enough to imbue the narrative with requisite levels of absurd ridiculousness that most likely characterized the real-life story as well. So it’s just about as McKay-esque as it needs to be to stay on the right side of the road and avoid descending into sanctimonious and irate preaching McKay’s movies like Don’t Look Up and Vice (and even The Big Short, come to think of it), have been accused of; not baselessly either.  

Thus, Dumb Money is one of those “Goldilocks” movies that is not too stupid, not too smart, not too funny and not too solemn. It’s just right. Consequently, it makes for an incredibly effortless viewing experience, even if it might not linger for long enough in your memory to make an appearance during the dinner chat, let alone the next day at work. It’s one of those brisk movies that looks like a Scorsese or a David O. Russell movie without ever trying to be one, and it’s only because the combination of its subject matter, a star-studded ensemble cast, and the required tonal parameters make it look the part.  

So, here we are. Dumb Money perhaps lives up to the meaning of its title, which is what big shot Wall Street bankers call small pocket change retail investors. It’s the kind of movie that is easy to take for granted and disregard as awards bait meant to satisfy nobody but The Academy voters. And just as the titular dumb money investors showed billionaire investors where they can stick their handcrafted loafers, Craig Gillespie’s Dumb Money works out to be a compelling surprise. It’s fun, fresh and just about poignant enough to earn its keep among more ambitious Autumn releases and to become a de facto counter-programming to tired blockbusters and uninspired horror pieces vying for your ticket dollars.