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A Banker, Husband, and Father, Mr. Smith must leave it behind him. He's made a mistake and he's trying to pay for it but he doesn't know if there is enough money in the world. Or so he tells Bobby the eighteen year old male hustler Smith employs for company. Bobby quickly learns however, that Smith is no regular John, and their meeting has unintended consequences that neither of them is prepared to afford. Written by
While in the club Abe's right arm is in the bandage; later in the hotel it's the left arm. See more »
This film is a work of fiction. The characters and situations represented are also fictional. Any similarity to persons either living or dead is the result of beautiful accident and is by no means intentional See more »
A Note To Those Involved: Don't Give Up Your Day Jobs, People
The title of this DVD made me laugh, and when I laughed I decided to take a chance. Fortunately, playing Russian Roulette with DVDs isn't as dangerous as playing it with guns, because if it were MR. SMITH GETS A HUSTLER would have killed me dead.
MR. SMITH is apparently based on a way-off-Broadway play by writer Matt Swan, who appears to have survived the opening night audience at least long enough to adapt his play into an incredible barrel of tripe for the screen. A handsome young male prostitute named Bobby (Alex Feldman) supports his single mother's alcoholism by working for a semi-evil pimp out of the most boring looking bar you can imagine--and he meets an older and distinguished looking man named "Mr. Smith" (Larry Pine.) Pretty soon the two are up in Mr. Smith's hotel room, but much to Bobby's surprise the client doesn't want do anything but talk about how Bobby's such a nice kid. Gee! What's going on?
Well, I'll tell you what's going on: a total waste of your time. The two leads aren't bad, really. Larry Pine seems to be a somewhat talented actor, and Alex Feldman is at least passable. But... the rest of the cast ranges from dismissible to flatly inept. Swan's script is atrocious, Joe Labisi's idea of cinematography is wannabe-arty angles that were passe fifty years ago, and Ian McCrudden's direction consists of putting the actors in front of the camera and hoping for the best.
One of the selling points of the film is its apparent status as erotic. Do not be mislead, however, on this point. Alex Feldman does indeed trot around with his shirt off and--at times--his pants slipping down. In other hands it might have been titilating, but here it isn't any more erotic than soggy breakfast cereal.
Frankly, if I had been involved in this movie, I wouldn't admit it, much less put it on my resume. Don't give up your day jobs, people. Dire to the nth degree!
Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer
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