Poker is everywhere. ESPN endlessly re-runs The World Series of Poker, the Travel Channel shows more of the World Poker Tour than it does all European destinations combined, and Bravo has a big hit in Celebrity Poker Showdown, which gives viewers the rare opportunity so see how truly unimpressive some celebrities are in the raw.
I’d never have believed that poker could make for compelling television, but it's clearly getting its hooks into a wide audience. Maybe it's that we get to see everyone’s hand as they play it, allowing us to watch the game unfold in a God-state in which we know for sure what choices to make while the world’s best players do not. The piles of cash dropped onto the winners' laps doesn't hurt, either. Seeing real cash presented to real people is usually enough to keep viewers glued to the last few minutes of a broadcast. Anyway, the old game is back and it’s bigger than ever.
So it was no surprise when the folks at ESPN, having helped fashion the wheels on this bandwagon, announced the production of a new dramatic series about career Vegas grifters and the people who hate them. "TILT" is ESPN’s second attempt at an original drama, and while it will probably outlive Playmakers, last year's stilted attempt to depict life in the NFL, it will do so not necessarily out of relative merit but because TILT doesn’t have a multi-billion dollar organization spanking it on the fanny for its negative depiction of the league. TILT has many of the same problems that Playmakers had, and a few more of its own.
Like it’s predecessor, TILT has a cast of unlikable, marginally interesting characters. The show pits three young, talented poker players against a cabal of established cheaters. We’re supposed to be rooting for the young trio of Eddie (Eddie Cibrian), Miami (Kristin Lehman), and Clark (Todd Williams), so ESPN made sure they were gorgeous. They’re 30-ish, stylish, and sexy, cut right from the Hollywood mold. All you have to do is watch twenty minutes of the World Poker Tour to see that this depiction of life in the Vegas poker rooms is way off the mark. If ESPN wanted to draw a realistic picture, the cast would consist of forgotten physiques, over-50 lifers in Members Only jackets, and frumpy Asian math wizards.
With a few satisfying exceptions, the acting lacks subtlety. You might expect casino dialogue to be dull and riddled with clichés, so it’s easy to forgive some of the goofy exchanges, but TILT’s most visible problem is its unrelenting reliance on Tough Guy Posturing, or TGP. Playmakers had it in abundance, too. It's an affliction that strikes writers and directors when they think that what they're doing is a bigger deal than it really is. Or better than it really is. If Quentin Tarantino’s recent films bore you, you know what I’m talking about. TGP is delivered by the characters in a story but it's fueled by the egos of a show's creative team.
Don "The Matador" Everest is the seedy antagonist of the series (played expertly by Michael Madsen), and every time he speaks in his smoky, scratchy voice, he lays on the TGP so thick you'll swear you can see the writers sitting at a boardroom table scribbling decent material and calling it genius. Or worse, calling it important. The characters of TILT are in desperate need of some depth and contradiction. They’re all cartoons of themselves.
There’s a scene in which Eddie and Don’s Everest’s daughter Dee, a twiggy model who can’t be a day over 23, are dressing themselves after sex consummated within 24 hours of their introduction. Don appears at Eddie’s door to invite him to a big game and he sees that his daughter is there. He sniffs the air, and in his card room voice, says to his daughter, "Well, I certainly hope there’s enough of him left over. I’m going to need him." It’s an awkward, alien moment. It's also the kind of hook that makes otherwise disinterested viewers keep watching.
TILT’s plot unfolds gradually, and through five episodes we know that in one way or another, the Matador had betrayed or cheated every important character (and a few marginal characters to boot) at some point in their lives. If there’s a moral buried somewhere in TILT, I hope it’s not "You can cross people and benefit, but be mindful not to cross too many." They’re all bent on exacting their own personal revenge, and as they inch closer, the tension builds like a gathering storm. Or, at least that’s how we’re supposed to feel.
TILT offers a bit of game savvy, and you’ll hear a few good ol' poker aphorisms, but there’s an overwhelming sense of fiction in this fiction. It’s easy to dislike TILT if you decide you’re going to dislike it, as I did, but you’ll likely find that it becomes more entertaining the more you watch. You might find yourself sneering at the screen, yet watching with interest. But maybe I’m just another sucker. You won’t care about a single soul on the screen, but it’s not hard to be taken by the notion of cosmic justice right around the corner.
But still, fictionalized card play? I think ESPN should stick to what it does best - sports news, scores, highlights, and analysis. They're great at that. The best. (The only.) What makes shows like Celebrity Poker Showdown and the World Poker Tour fun to watch for many is that they present real people with real hands and real quandaries. TILT has none of that. Poker is a great game with a storied past and apparently a booming future, but I’m betting that while millions will learn to enjoy the game, they won’t give a damn about "the life".
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