But, Money Monster—the title of which is also the title of Lee’s show but also suggests a reasonable nickname for the economy itself—has much more on its mind than a myopic, corrupt cable show host who turns the real financial crises into entertainment. Rather, the film is interested in how the economy itself is effectively rigged to benefit the wealthy while keeping the lower classes at bay. It fits in nicely with a number of other recent films, including 99 Homes (2015) and The Big Short (2015), that have dramatized the frustration so many feel with the current, seemingly inexplicable economy (although, like those two films, the economy is shown to be completely understandable as a vehicle controlled by the rich and powerful to benefit their own ends).

When a stock tanks, the wealthy can sigh at the dip in their portfolio and then move on, while someone like Kyle watches his whole financial world go down the drain. The stock in this particular case is from Ibis Clear Capital, a flashy new investment firm that uses a complex algorithm to rapidly trade shares in such a way that is guaranteed never to lose money. Well, that is exactly what happens when Ibis loses overnight $800 million of its investors’ dollars, which is blamed on a “computer glitch”—a meaningless phrase that no one is able to elaborate. When pressed, Ibis’s chief communications officer Diane Lester (Caitriona Balfe) finds herself simply repeating the same talking points because she doesn’t have anything else to offer. All “communication” from the corporation is one-way in the form of prefabricated rhetorical diversions that sound good at first blush, but collapse under any kind of scrutiny—the kind that Lee should be exercising on his show, rather than simply towing the line thrown to him by the companies and cashing his fat paychecks.

Lee was supposed to have Ibis’ CEO, Walt Camby (Dominic West), on the show that same day, but he cancelled at the last minute and his whereabouts are literally unknown (even by those who work for him). Since Walt is the only one who might have any real answers, the narrative turns into a waiting game, as Kyle holds Lee’s life in the balance until he can dig up some real answers, which effectively turns Lee into the kind of financial journalist he is supposed to be. We shouldn’t be too surprised that Lee’s consciousness is awakened by his interactions with Kyle, who, despite waving a gun, is clearly a gentle, even pathetic soul who simply has nowhere else to turn. One of the film’s most surprising and distressing scenes occurs when the police track down Kyle’s pregnant girlfriend and put her on-screen to talk to him down, but she does something entirely different that goes a long way toward explaining Kyle’s desperation.

All of this is unfolding, of course, on live television, which is one of Kyle’s demands. He wants the corruption exposed, and he knows that the only way to do it is to put it in front of people’s noses. This requires the show’s longtime director, Patty Finn (Julia Roberts), to stay in the control booth where she is essentially still directing, albeit an entirely different show with a different set of rules. Patty is the consummate professional, the reason and logic and resolve to Lee’s brash egotism and shallow panache, which makes her the perfect person to control things from behind the glass. She recognizes that Kyle is just a voice who wants to be heard, and she knows that to keep violence at bay, the show must go on. Throughout the film we cut to various audiences watching the show unfold, and the almost nonchalant manner in which they respond to it is testament to the film’s cynical view of the American people. They go about eating their lunch, playing pool, and drinking coffee while a celebrity cable host stand within seconds of being blown apart in front of them. When Lee and Kyle eventually exit the building and have to make their way through the streets of Manhattan, rowdy crowds line the sidewalks, apparently unafraid that anything will actually blow. It’s just another means of showing us how the corruption thrives because we thrive on the entertainment it provides.

The screenplay by Jamie Linden (We Are Marshall, Dear John), Alan DiFiore (Grimm), and Jim Kouf (National Treasure, Rush Hour) is a mix of high-concept obviousness and genuine passion for the difficulties endured by those who get chewed up and spit out by the system. The characters are mostly types, and although well-played by Clooney, Roberts, and O’Connell, they register primarily as placeholders: the charlatan who profits by playing the game and asking no real questions, the professional who helps make it happen despite her internal misgivings, and the raging voice of the dispossessed who make them both recognize the error of their ways. Director Jodie Foster, who until now has directed primarily low-key dramas (1991’s Little Man Tate) and off-beat comedies (1995’s Home for the Holidays, 2011’s The Beaver), is working in new territory, and she manages the tension well, even if the opening tends to drag a bit. The last third of the film picks up real steam, and there is genuine suspense as to how it will turn out. There are some definite misfires sprinkled through the film—especially a would-be comical subplot involving erectile cream that finds one the show’s producers putting it to work in a back office, completely unaware that the building is in lockdown—which unfortunately get in the way of the film firing on all its angry pistons.

Copyright ©2016 James Kendrick

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