There’s not inconsiderable irony in the rapidity with which Dumb Money was snapped up by the big money of Hollywood. Heck, the GameStop shock of 2021 hadn’t even abated when the film was conceived. Ben Mezrich‘s book, on which Dumb Money is based, hadn’t even found a publisher. Back then, the film was to be called The Antisocial Network, in tribute to another adaptation of a Mezrich text. You may have seen it. Mezrich finally published a book for the film to adapt in September 2021, three months after Lauren Schuker Blum and Rebecca Angelo were hired to write its screenplay. I, Tonya’s Craig Gillespie was signed to direct only last year and, just seventeen months later, here we are. Such speed is near whiplash inducing.

The film retells the unprecedented short squeezing of stocks in the market of the publicly listed retailer GameStop. A casualty, but not yet fatality, of the internet age, GameStop had long been touted ‘the next Blockbuster’ by 2020. Which is to say, its financial collapse was hotly anticipated on Wall Street. Hotly and excitedly. Money was ripe for the making in this dog eat dog world. There’s a lot of jargon abound in Dumb Money and it’s a minefield for those who know not their shorts from their cargo pants. In plain speak, the film hinges on a premise that greedy hedge fund marketeers had bet against GameStop in anticipation of its collapse. The moment this beleaguered electronics vendor went bust, billionaires would get their bonus. Never mind the jobs lost and lives affected.

Enter Paul Dano’s endlessly endearing oddball Keith Gill, a cat-loving nerd with a penchant for fiscal vlogging. He rather likes GameStop. So much so that he proclaims it an underestimated stock market force daily to followers on the ‘subreddit’ site r/wallstreetbets. He’s also the proud owner of fifty thousand GameStop shares, along with his wife Caroline (Shailene Woodley) and their infant daughter. Pete Davidson plays Keith’s stoner brother Kevin, a DoorDash driver who considers himself a ‘first responder’ in a pandemic malaise. A recent deceased sister haunts both and it’s a heartfelt scene that disrupts the film’s pulpy flow in which the pair shed a graveside tear, with mum Elaine (Kate Burton) and dad Steve (Clancy Brown). It’s a rare show of emotional intelligence in a film that rings somewhat shallow of feeling.

Disruption is, of course, the core conceit of the film. Dumb Money hasn’t the benefit of historical distance required to garner any well considered understanding of how the story it tells actually occurred but delivers its vague thesis with ample conviction. When Keith tells his followers to buy into GameStop, they do just that. The company’s shares skyrocket and a rag tag collective of wannabe investors suddenly find themselves with very healthy bank accounts indeed. There’s Jennifer (America Ferrera), a perpetually broke frontline nurse, college students Riri (Myha’la Herrold) and Harmony (Talia Ryder), and, most poignantly, Marcus (Anthony Ramos), a GameStop employee. Wall Street must have its winners and its losers, however, and Seth Rogan has the thankless role of landing in the latter group here. He plays Gabe Plotkin, founder of the now defunct investment management firm Melvin Capital. As Dumb Money tells it, the GameStop short squeeze played a big part in its downfall.

While a splintering of the narrative into individual investors has negative impacts on the overall directorial unity of the film, it’s a smart move that sees these amateurs utilised as surrogates to understanding. It is through Ferrera, Ramos and Davidson that the film’s baffling central conceits are diluted to more mainstream understanding. There’s less flair in this approach than, say, plonking Margot Robbie in a bubble bath, but more nuance too.

A blending of the story’s highs and lows through such variant perspective lends the film a greater sense for the excitement of the thing. It’s a little like the feeling of watching a friend scrub a promising scratch card. There’s also an interesting correlation laid here between the collectivism that allowed the squeeze to succeed and the pandemic mentality that saw so many across the globe accept and adhere to restrictive lockdowns and government guidance.

Gillespie’s fondness for his characters is evident but exposes to a lack of scrutiny. It’s a very specific angle that presents the squeeze as some sort of revolutionary origins story, without so much evidence that anything has really changed. Money talks, the banker always wins, you can’t buck the markets…all notions firmly routed in a status quo that isn’t quite shaking in its boots just yet. Perhaps a version of Dumb Money not quite so rushed into production might have found a more compelling argument at a stronger vantage point.