Shakespeare once said there are only a limited number of plot lines, and writers must continuously retool these storylines over time. "Lucky Numbers" tries to revamp the classic "good guy gone bad" premise, but to little avail.
Russ Richards (John Travolta) fits the stereotype as a Harrisburg, Pa., icon. He drives his cherry red Jaguar up to his reserved parking place at the local Denny's, where he slides into his usual booth, reserved by a velvet cord and nameplate. The same waitress takes the same order every day, and Russ jokes with a five-year-old as a beaming father snaps a photo. As an extremely gregarious and popular local weatherman, Russ seems to have it all and to have everything under to control.
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Of course, as any savvy viewer would expect, he does not. Having made a few bad investments, such as opening a snowmobile dealership in the middle of the biggest warm spell in years, Russ is hugely in debt. Oddly enough, however, Richards' closest friend, Gig (Tim Roth), the proprietor of a local strip club, has all the ideas. The two eventually come up with a seemingly foolproof plan to scam the local lottery. Granted, it certainly helps that he is sleeping with Crystal (Lisa Kudrow), the lotto ball picker herself.
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This plan might have worked if not for the other characters who get involved. An asthmatic, Bible-thumping cousin (Michael Moore), the inanely stupid thug (Michael Rapaport) and a bookie (Richard Schiff, who won an Emmy this year for "The West Wing") all get in the way. Russ and Crystal soon realize that, by the time each of the players receives his share, the $6 million lottery jackpot will be gone. From here, things only get worse - for characters and viewers alike.
On paper, Adam Resnick's screenplay definitely had the possibility for laughs, despite many dark edges only hinted at in the previews. He relies on tried-and-true jokes more often than he should. Audiences have no problem accepting the stupidity of the characters: they are all pretty much dolts. The problem surfaces in Nora Ephron's directing abilities, because she simply cannot make the jokes work.
Although known for such hits as "When Harry Met Sally" and "Sleepless in Seattle," Ephron falls short here. With moments of ill-timed punchlines, the movie becomes a characteristic series of bad jokes. Maybe casting Meg Ryan has been her only strong point in the past, because in "Numbers," Ephron is inept when it comes to making the most of her actors.
For instance, Ephron relies entirely too much on Travolta's presence here. He generates audience sympathy, but his lacking performance suggests he does not deserve the career success he's achieving. Instead, he merely rests on the laurels of the charisma he established in his teen idol days in "Saturday Night Fever" and "Grease," but that is not enough to carry the movie successfully.
Although Kudrow struggles to plump up the character of Crystal, she ends up as little more than a more dirty-mouthed version of her "Friends" character, Phoebe. Surely there was something more she could have brought to the role.
The same goes for Roth. Playing the owner of the local strip club, he should have upped the ante on his role a little more. More than anything else, he's simply annoying and dull.
With a script that loses its audience and actors who leave us with even less to hold onto, it is clear that Ephron is in over her head. In the end, "Numbers" makes for passable watching at best, if you do not mind working hard to find briefly funny moments. When you do find them, consider yourself lucky.
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