Molly Bloom, a beautiful young Olympic-class skier, ran the world's most exclusive high-stakes poker game for a decade before being arrested in the middle of the night by 17 FBI agents wielding automatic weapons. Her players included Hollywood royalty, sports stars, business titans, and finally, unbeknownst to her, the Russian mob. Her only ally was her criminal defense lawyer Charlie Jaffey, who learned that there was much more to Molly than the tabloids led us to believe
It's tempting to think of "Molly's Game" in poker terms: Sorkin's holding a queen, a king, and at least a couple of aces, but the tell is that he talks too much, and in the end you realize he's bluffing.
Beyond painting Bloom as a young woman who saw an opportunity and grabbed it, the film's attempts at psychology don't pan out very convincingly. But for sheer voyeurism, this study of an illicit but unusually well-bankrolled demimonde is quite satisfying.
At a certain point, everyone watching "Molly's Game" will form the question, "Why should I care about any of this?" It's a question Sorkin should have anticipated. He has no good answer.
Few actors on the planet can shift gears as effortlessly as Chastain, who perfectly captures Molly's chameleon-like ability to adapt to situations and to rationalize her worst behavior.
Even though this is Sorkin's directing debut, quite a bit of the clarity comes from the visuals, annotated when necessary, precisely shot and edited with nearly every trick known to contemporary filmmaking.
