Review: Saint John of Las Vegas

Steve Buscemi's obvious love for indie film coupled with his often fearless role choices means that on occasion his choices end in a miss, not a hit. In the case of Saint John of Las Vegas, it's more miss than hit.

A quirky near-morality tale of a recovering gambler on the verge of a change in luck and love, insurance agent John Alighieri (Buscemi) is up for a promotion if he helps prove fraud on an insurance claim. While he leaves a budding romance with a smiley-obsessed co-worker (Sarah Silverman) behind, he embarks on a surreal journey to the outskirts of Las Vegas with Virgil (Romany Malco), his new mentor in insurance fraud investigation.

Loosely based on Dante's Inferno (note that John and Dante have the same last name), the surreal world around the hell of Las Vegas is boring and awkward instead of funny and insightful. Steve Buscemi is a talented actor, but he doesn't have a lot to work with here, other than surreal and unlikely scenarios, such as a lapdancer turned waitress and an impromptu guerilla nudist colony on a desert highway as they search for proof of fraud. He seems to be sleepwalking through the role as passively as the character he plays. 

While the film has its humorous moments, the script by writer/director Hue Rhodes doesn't provide a lot of logic in the decisions being made, making disbelief a persistent itch. Saint John of Las Vegas is likely to find a small audience among a certain crowd, but it isn't as smart as it wishes it were.