Guy (Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) Ritchie takes another turn at the high stakes gambler-gangster world, with his new film Revolver. Unfortunately, where his acclaimed Lock Stock soars, Revolver fails to launch.

Jake, a gambler fresh from seven years in solitary confinement, is determined to even the score with his nemesis, the comically evil casino owner Macha. Armed with con skills gleaned from prison library books scribbled in by a chess champ and expert con man, Jake soon wins big money from Macha. Now, a war is on between the two. Enter two mysterious loan sharks who agree to save Jake’s life, but only if he does their bidding—no questions asked. Jake has little choice and the Game is on. A lot of blood-letting ensues.

Yet this is only the front for what the movie really wants to say. Revolver is a film trying to understand why we do the things we do. What is our motivation for our actions? Once circumstances change, how do our motivations change? What is it inside all human beings that cause us to act? And who the heck are these two “loan sharks” really? Angels? Devils? Do they even exist? But the answers to these questions trip up this otherwise rather quirky and fun film.

The film is shot and edited in clever and unique ways, creating a stylized and skilled visual effect. At one point, the action even becomes animated, which in most films would not have worked—but in this case truly adds to the artistry. During a shootout in a house, for example, instead of showing the shooters running around, the frames move in and out of view giving us the feel of action, but not using tired, jumpy, running camera shots up and down the stairs. The feel is clean, artistic, and efficient, just like the assassin.

With characters named “Mr. Green” and “Mr. Gold” and a snappy (albeit unnecessarily round-about) screenplay, there is definitely homage to over-the-top gangster noir films in Revolver. The creative lighting characterizations of Macha and his nemesis, Lord John, are of particular note. In one scene, the two are shot in their respective lairs—a blue lit tanning room and a red sauna—snapping orders to their underlings. It’s simply amusing to look at, as Ritchie puts his modern urban spin on the genre.

For the spiritually attuned, the most interesting part of the film is watching the character arc of Jake. Actor Jason Statham does an insightful job of playing someone going through a major spiritual or existential transformation. While some might criticize his choices towards the end, from a Christian theological standpoint Jake is right on target. There is an especially poignant scene—as Jake finally wrestles with his “demons” in a darkened elevator—that many who have been through a dark night of the soul can relate to.

Where the film fails is that it takes a somewhat complex psychological or existential idea and tries to explain it in ways that confuse rather than enlighten (hence the apparent need for the short documentary footage during the credits).

The root of the confusion stems from dancing around what it wants to say—an acceptable, even necessary part of the who-done-it genre, but only if the film shows us the “who” in the end. Here, by contrast, the “hints” lead us far afield from the film’s final meaning, creating an unsatisfying ending. Films need not explain to satisfy—in fact, Revolver would have benefited from allowing the audience to draw more of its own conclusions. The problem originates with the film’s tendency to draw the audience too much towards what it does not want us to think, then having to yank us back into its worldview.

For example, at one key point the film delivers the line: “The greatest trick that he ever pulled was making you believe that he is you.” This brings to mind, for anyone familiar with this genre, the famous line from The Usual Suspects: “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was making you believe that he doesn’t exist.” Yet in Revolver, one can’t be sure that the “he” is the devil. Or if there is a devil at all. But maybe there is. You decide. No wait, we’ll tell you. But only in the credits.

It is almost as if the parallels to well-worn film symbolism that are supposed to be helping you with the story are all red herrings. This builds anticipation for a slam-bam bang-up finish where the film finally explains at least some of this debacle (ã la Sixth Sense). Yet the film only explains fully what everyone already knows—and the existential angst the film creates is addressed only by documentary footage of physiologists and Deepak Chopra. Quite a letdown.

Ultimately, Revolver tries to be a more visually artistic and less glossy Fight Club, but in taking away that gloss, it leaves the audience dull.

Revolver is rated R, for “violence, language and some nudity.” There is quite a bit of blood, but no more than you would expect of a film of this genre.

Courtesy of a local publicist, Jennie attended a press screening of Revolver.