“Press Your Luck” had to be the stupidest game show that ever existed …well, at least until the era of reality TV took over; now they’re all stupid and vie for the crown with rose ceremonies. Before the “Survivor” revolution took over, however, all game shows were three generally overexcited and underinformed contestants on a panel filled with lights and bright colors answering questions … or, in the case of “Jeopardy!” generally overinformed and providing answers. And the stupidest game show of all was “Press Your Luck.”
What made “Press Your Luck” stupid? The fact that show was 5% trivia knowledge, 5% gamesmanship, and 90% luck. It says it right there in the name. Contestants answer a bunch of questions to get “spins,” and use their spins to stop randomly on a board with tiles depicting money, prizes, or “Whammies.” Whammies are automatic bankruptcies; one Whammy and you lose your cash amassed and a turn. Three Whammies and you lose the game.
But what if the spins were not random? What if, say, you got a whole bunch of VHS tapes (the film is set in 1984), and studied them carefully for the “random” spin patterns, understood that there were only five of them, each easily identifiable if you gave it enough time. And what if you studied them to the point where you could never lose? Well, that is exactly the story of Michael Larson, an unemployed ice cream truck driver from Ohio, who came to Television City, Hollywood to win big. First, he cheated to get in; and then he cheated to win big.
Is it cheating? Yes, it is. Is it the fault of CBS that he was able to cheat? Also, yes, so it’s hard to feel sorry for them. In fact, it’s hard to take anything good home from this film, but I’ll grant that it’s probably a story worth telling. Michael Larson (Paul Walter Hauser) was a small-time grifter from Ohio who spent most of his adult life trying to pull off minor cons. He is very likely who Donald Trump would be were Donald not born to unbelievable wealth and privilege. Well, that’s not all true – here’s the part where Larson surpasses Trump, skill-wise: at some point in his life, Larson became obsessed with the gameshow “Press Your Luck.” He taped several episodes and studied the spin patterns until he had them down. Then he went to Hollywood, and that’s where the film begins.
The screenplay suggests Michael -frustrated with not being called for an audition- assumed the turn of another
contestant, and when discovered, filed meekly out to the ice cream truck he drove from Ohio to California. I don’t believe there is evidence that the real Michael showed up via ice cream truck, and I have no idea if he had an ex-wife and child back in Lebanon, Ohio, but it makes for a more fleshed-out tale here, which is good because there’s not a whole lot of meat on this particular bone.
The Luckiest Man in America takes place almost entirely in one day of shooting in which CBS executives slowly realize Larson is cheating, study how he’s cheating, and confront him about it. Larson himself goes from hero-to-villain-back-to-hero-again over the course of 90 minutes. I’m not sure how that works, exactly. We loathe him for cheating, but then laud him for getting away with it? I suppose that is our national ethos right now, isn’t it? The guy in charge is a criminal. Every description of him starts there; there are those of us who wish to see him held accountable and those of us and those of us who laud him for avoiding such. I think the latter group are hypocritical assholes (if it were Obama or Clinton or Biden, you’d want them held accountable … and so would I), but I understand how American it is to want to game the system, and here’s the guy who figured out how to really stick it to the man. Once.
As far as I can tell, this Paul Walter Hauser character is no different than his Richard Jewell, a mediocre man who back-ended his way into national fame. Whether or not you view him as hero or something less is up to you. But I’ll say this much: “Press Your Luck” was a really crappy game show.
There once was a man named Larson
Who was hardly the neighborhood parson
He achieved great fame
By cheating on a game
Thankfully, he preferred grifting to arson
Rated R, 90 Minutes
Director: Samir Oliveros
Writer: Maggie Briggs, Samir Oliveros, Amanda Freedman
Genre: Games people play
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: People who work the system
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: “Ummm, that’s cheating.”
