Talk about a monte that is just plain jecka. Like sugar, honey, iced, tea. Are you smelling what I’m stepping in?
Actually, I hope you don’t step in it. I hope you run from it.
Because this sort of exaggerated slang is just one of the many problems with the 2005 straight-to-video billiards movie Shooting Gallery (aka Poolhall Prophets). Aspiring to be some mash-up between The Hustler and The Sting, Shooting Gallery tries to generate credibility by overindulging in the argot of pool hustlers and con artists. But, 30% of the lingo is made-up (according to the special feature), and the remaining 70% is so forced, it feels like the director/writer Keoni Waxman was double-dared to make every fifth word some form of billiards slang. Even worse, Waxman lacks the confidence to let the script breathe meaning into the words, and instead resorts to a cheap bit of opening credit hokum by literally showing translations of the jargon (e.g., “on the lemon” = playing bad on purpose; “shortstop” = local player; “cecil” = $100; etc.).
If the pool patois were the only problem in Shooting Gallery, maybe the monte (= movie) would be passable. Unfortunately, the entire 102 minutes is mos def (= most definitely) jecka ( = terrible). Behind the horrible dialogue is nonsensical story about Jericho Hudson (Freddie Prinze Jr, whose acting in this film makes Keanu Reeves appear Oscar-worthy), a street-smart pool player, who falls in with the Tribe, a New Orleans gaggle of hustlers, led by Cue Ball Carl Bridgers (Ving Rhames), a chicken-foot sucking, 8-ball cane-wielding kingpin. Each Tribe member is tattooed with an 8-ball, which makes beaucoup (= lots of) sense, given they are supposed to be incognito 9-ball hustlers.
Jericho quickly rises through the ranks of the Tribe; his success driven by his gift for hustling 9-ball and his ability to say with a straight face craptacular (= awful) dialogue, such as, “I was a hustler with a goal, which would make either happy or dead.” His one weakness seems to be Jezebel Black (Roselyn Sanchez), who “looked like two scoops of ice cream on a warm summer day.” (So that means what exactly…?)
Jericho gets himself into some trouble when he tries to hustle on the side. Jezebel gets herself into some trouble when she can’t pay off her gambling debts to ex-NFL great Bill Romanowksi. People keep getting hustled at the Shooting Gallery, a billiards hall run by Cue Ball Carl and widely and illogically known as a hustler’s paradise. A corrupt cop shows up with a need to set up a 9-ball game against Cue Ball Carl so he can retrieve a video cassette, the maguffin of the film. A coked-up crackshot named Tenderloin Tony appears, but is then killed. Some pool is played, but not that much. More idiotic dialogue is sputtered (“If I’m lying, I’m dying. – Jericho Hudson).
None of this make a lick of sense. Shooting Gallery plays like a string of two-bit hustling clichés strung together by poor acting and middle school dialogue. As I said at the start, this film is sugar, honey, iced, tea (= S.H.I.T.).
Shooting Gallery is widely available to rent or purchase online.
