The Card Counter

Paul Schrader's The Card Counter concerns a troubled gambler (Oscar Issac), named (over) significantly William Tell, who yearns to find redemption. As a young man, Tell, then named (over) significantly William Tillich, was among the torture crew at Abu Ghraib and ended up in the brig at Leavenworth because of  his misdeeds. A young man (Tye Sheridan), whose father served with Tell and ended up committing suicide over his guilt, tries to enlist him in a revenge plot to punish a former torture master who escaped punishment. Tell wants to save the young man before it is too late. He accepts an offer from a fixer (Tiffany Haddish) who bankrolls gamblers with the help of an unseen investor. Together they support Tell as he enters poker tournaments in East coast casinos, ostensibly acquiring a nest egg for the young man.

I found The Card Counter to be slightly better than Schrader's last exploration of modern trauma, First Reformed, but it still suffers from the same dour Calvinism and portentousness. Schrader is investigating the themes he always does. Tell is yet another of Schrader's angry men of God. He keeps a journal recounting his struggles, like Travis Bickle and Arthur Bremer. Tell attempts to find transcendence in a world rife with corruption and sin, like the protagonists in Light Sleeper and First Reformed. He approaches transcendence through the touch of humanity in an ending that all too closely resembles that of American Gigolo. 

The Card Counter does have elements in its favor. Issac and Haddish are both superb and have an effective rapport. Schrader has written a well-structured and symmetrical screenplay. He has grown as a visual director and handles well sequences that range from a heavenly first date to the hell found in a torture chamber. However, Sheridan's character is a cipher and his performance is so anonymous it is almost fatal to the film. The film's music is dreadful, both portentous and pretentious. The poker sequences are superfluous. Schrader is so intent on expressing his anger at the pain and trauma caused by the US war on terror that the film loses plausibility and any sense of equilibrium. No one will be able to miss the message of The Card Counter, but its monotony of tone makes it a chore to sit through.