MOVIE REVIEW : ‘Strike It Rich’ Shortchanges Greene Novel

You could stock an entire film festival with movies that have either been written by Graham Greene or adapted from his novels and stories. And it would be a hell of a festival. From “The Third Man” to “The Quiet American” to “Our Man in Havana,” few first-rank writers have been so well-served on the screen. To top it off, Greene, in the ‘30s, wrote some of the finest film criticism that’s ever graced the groves of journalism.

James Scott, who directed an Oscar-winning short in 1983 based on Greene’s “A Shocking Accident,” is back with a feature, “Strike It Rich,” based on Greene’s 1957 novella “Loser Takes All.” The film bears a trace of tampering from its production company, Miramax, which is releasing it under its Millimeter Films banner, but it remains a mostly straightforward, mildly engrossing transcription of one of Greene’s more gossamer “entertainments.”

Set in 1956, it’s about a colorless London accountant, Ian Bertram (Robert Lindsay), who falls in love with and marries a radiant plain-Jane, Cary Porter (Molly Ringwald), a transplanted American who adores Ian’s unassuming airs. They meet while taking the same packed Chelsea bus to work each morning.

When Ian unexpectedly makes a smashing impression on his boss, the wistfully imperious Herbert Dreuther (John Gielgud, in a wistfully imperious cameo), he’s rewarded with the promise of an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Monte Carlo, and a stay on Dreuther’s immense yacht. Except that Dreuther is a no-show, leaving the couple to their own meager resources.

There’s a core of seriousness to this tale, a moralism that Greene likes to sneak into even his flimsiest japes. Ian devises a foolproof formula for winning at roulette, sacrifices his marital comforts at the altar of greed, and almost loses Cary in the process. The film, which hews fairly close to Greene’s plotting and dialogue, turns into a breezy cautionary tale--too breezy, as it turns out.

The newlyweds’ characters are barely established before they are subverted. Clark doesn’t convey the passion of the gambler’s life, Molly Ringwald is a bit blank, and Robert Lindsay is proficiently bland. We never share Ian’s fever for success, which is really his way of revenging himself against Dreuther. For this movie to work, we have to feel in our bones what it would be like to possess a sure-fire formula for winning. Instead, Ian’s streak becomes a pretext for some finger-wagging. The film makes it all too easy to pooh-pooh his money lust.