Luck is not a belief unique to Americans, but The Luckiest Man in America – a half-fictionalised dramatisation of real events directed by Samir Oliveros – makes the case that no one commits to the myth of random good fortune with as much aplomb as does the denizens of the United States. But right from the start, the story of Michael Larson (Paul Walter Hauser) seems self-determined; when another auditionee is running late, he jumps into his slot for the televised game show Press Your Luck, and when found out he ends up with a spot on the show as the showrunner Bill Carruthers (David Strathairn) has been won over by his everyman charm and narrative. Michael drove an ice cream truck from Ohio to LA for this very chance!
The next day, Michael finds himself in the central chair in front of game show host Peter Tomarkin (Walton Goggins) and a live studio audience. But what Peter, Bill, and the studio audience do not know is that Michael’s luck on the show is going to be very, very good – perhaps too good, threatening the studio’s solvency as the numbers on his cash prize counter climb towards the triple digits.
As a true story with a Wikipedia page, The Luckiest Man in America is possible to “spoil” in advance, but Oliveros assumes no knowledge of the personages or proceedings – with events unfolding in 1984, there are whole generations who have grown up after Michael Larson’s gutsy stunt (indeed, Press Your Luck went off the air in its original form in 1986, two years after the events portrayed in the film, and despite surviving in re-runs and re-worked formats it does not have the cultural staying power of Jeopardy). This works very well in the film’s favour, as his production design and cinematography (by Pablo Lozano) selectively incorporates the hazy, grainy film quality and the square aspect ratio of 1980s broadcasts, heightening the atmosphere, mood, and immersion into a recognisable but nostalgic world. Editor Sebastián Hernández is crucial to delineating what is seen through monitors – or when characters imagine how they might be seen.
As Michael, Hauser subtly and naturally captures a man so far gone down an obsession that he is almost blinded to the problems he makes along the way, a modicum of caution and aw-shucks American charm coming into play to throw off others’ suspicion. Whether the charm is an act to mask his motivations from the show’s bosses, or whether it is part of the man Michael wishes he is, is tantalisingly ambiguous.
The strong supporting cast is a melange of accomplished actors from eclectic previous film and television projects, enhancing the ensemble appeal of The Luckiest Man in America and providing that same feeling of comforting familiarity that a televised game show provides its loyal audience. Alongside Strathairn and Goggins, comic actress Patti Harrison (I Think You Should Leave) is underused but still manages to steal scenes as Michael’s fellow contestant, Maisie Williams (Game of Thrones) is a harried production assistant, Haley Bennett (Cyrano) briefly appears as Michael’s long-suffering wife, and Johnny Knoxville (Jackass) as a startlingly relaxed talk show host whose path unexpectedly crosses with Michael’s live on air. Seeing all these favourite faces together in one place makes The Luckiest Man in America more than worth the price of admission.
The preoccupation with fame gained through the collection of cultural cache runs underneath The Luckiest Man in America, deepening its thematic relevance. In a world where people go on television (or even just on the internet) to prove their smarts; prove their luck; and prove their status as the biggest expert, biggest fan, or biggest winner in relation to certain media, Michael’s compulsion feels relevant. Granted, Press Your Lost is, at least on the surface, a game purely based on the whims of fortune, where skills and smarts do not have anything to do with it. It is not the same as going on Mastermind or Jeopardy. But Michael sees not only a path out of his ice cream truck driving life, but into the annals of game show legend – a path he has control over and refuses to leave to chance.
While a short film, running only 90 minutes, it is hard to maintain the tension with relatively few plot twists and reveals – indeed, once the main “twist” is made clear, the sleuthing turns to a stand-off that cannot quite maintain the former’s momentum. Frustratingly, some leads teased as insights into Michael’s character end up going nowhere (possibly for legal reasons within this “based on a true story” framework). The tantalising prospect of more soon runs thin, but what remains is one fun ride.
A strange little tale of Americana and its delusions and dreamers, The Luckiest Man in America is equal parts cautionary tale and celebration of optimism. After spending the entire film breaking down the shiny sentimentality promised by reality television and game shows, revealing the messy, stressed, corporate reality, its final shot offers a glimpse into this softer world that Michael believes himself striving towards and promised by his success. Here, the contradictions and ambiguities become glaringly apparent. Maybe the great American delusion is that, despite our better judgement, luck must always just be around the corner.
The Luckiest Man in America recently screened at the Glasgow Film Festival.
Learn more about the film, including how to watch, at the Glasgow site for the title.
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