Movie review: Dumb Money speaks to the muted tragedy of our times

By Katherine Monk

The revolution may have its own YouTube channel in the 21st century, but The Man still owns the bank.

The Man also owns the market, the media landscape and no doubt one-too-many politicians, which is why we have the expression “Dumb Money” in the first place. The Man thinks we’re all dumb-ass rubes who approach investing the way a tourist approaches a Times Square game of three-card monty.

You know? Like all-cap SUCKERS!

The sad fact is: For the most part, The Man is right. Not because The Man is smarter than the rest of us rubes, or has a better feel for investing. The Man wins because the bankers, the big hedge funds and just about any Wall Street professional has his hands on the levers of power. They are the so-called “market makers” who can influence stock prices just by buying and selling huge blocks of a given stock.

In this way, the little fish feed the big fish. And so it goes. The only time little fish even stand a chance is when they get together and act as a large school, a grouping so cohesive they appear to predators as a gigantic whale.

It’s one of nature’s better tricks, and as Dumb Money proves, it’s also one of filmdom’s safest wagers. Adopting the story of real-life investor Keith Gill, Dumb Money fills out the narrative spreadsheet on the GameStop fairy tale. Considered a flagging stock by Wall Street professionals, GameStop share prices were expected to fall in light of online gaming, COVID, and the overall decline in brick and mortar retail. As a result, the big hedge funds bet against it.

But not Keith Gill. Rallying other small fish investors online, Gill is credited with minting several new millionaires — including himself — by pushing GameStop stock to unlikely highs, and forcing the big hedge funds into a “short squeeze.”

The little fish got together and became the whale, schooling Wall Street, and forever changing the power dynamic between Wall Street and Main Street money. It’s a David v. Goliath formula tailored for Hollywood genre in the spirt of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and all its Jimmy Stewart earnestness.

That said, it’s not the kind of story that immediately makes you think of director Craig Gillespie — the man who gave Ryan Gosling an inanimate girlfriend in Lars and the Real Girl, and Margot Robbie a need to kneecap the competition in I, Tonya.

Genre isn’t Gillespie’s strength, but weirdos are, which is probably the reason why this would-be cliche gets just enough edge to make it tilt into the land of interesting, with a side bonus of sympathy thanks to an understated all-star cast that includes Shailene Woodley, Paul Dano, Anthony Ramos, America Ferrera, Pete Davidson and Seth Rogen.

Genre isn’t Gillespie’s strength, but weirdos are, which is probably the reason why this would-be cliche gets just enough edge to make it tilt into the land of interesting, with a side bonus of sympathy thanks to an understated all-star cast…

Though the script takes an elegant line through the historical details, carefully plotting the big highs against the looming losses, it’s the cast that actually makes us care. After all, this is a story about people who are motivated by greed — a trait that doesn’t typically engender a lot of sympathy, even if it’s a little guy trying to get rich by gaming the system.

Greed is usually number two on the list of Seven Sins, right behind Pride. Yet, by offering us underdog characters who feel believably human, relatable and honest — not to mention financially needy — Gillespie overcomes the biggest hurdle.

We find a place in our hearts for the man who donned a Rambo headband and called himself Roaring Kitty. Sure, casting the ever-empathetic Shailene Woodley as Gill’s wife and Pete Davidson as his smarmy brother make the equation easier to compute, but it’s the way Gillespie turns away from the expected schmaltz that makes Dumb Money work on an emotional level.

The key is intimacy. We get pulled into everyone’s family circle, around kitchen tables and improvised home offices, where real life — and small fry money talk — happens. He graphically frames every character by their “net worth,” which feels a little tacky at first, but soon acquires a truly human dimension because no matter what our bank balance may be, we all worry about money.

We can relate to these characters who feel the weight of debt and a lack of financial security, so when the rollercoaster of opportunity pulls up to the platform, we know why they get onboard.

The key is intimacy. We get pulled into everyone’s family circle, around kitchen tables and improvised home offices, where real life — and small fry money talk — happens. He graphically frames every character by their “net worth,” which feels a little tacky at first, but soon acquires a truly human dimension because no matter what our bank balance may be, we all worry about money.

Gillespie maintains suspense by establishing the financial needs, and the potential windfalls, available to each character as they absorb the twists and turns of the market. Will these nice people get out of the hole? Or will they succumb to the fever of greed and stay on the ride too long?

It’s a morality tale for the modern age, which means it’s not so much about morality at all. It’s really all about money, and how money has become the metric for personal validation and social status. Money now determines how we value each other, and how we value ourselves.

The movie gives us the feel-good moment of the little guy winning, but Dumb Money has a darker undertone that lends the title a more subversive connotation, and speaks to the muted tragedy of our times.

@katherinemonk

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