Freud said, “There are no coincidences.” I thought that was true in isolated incidents, but didn’t think it was a universal absolute because that would suggest there was order in the world and I see entropy and chaos being more likely factors that influence nature.

That was until this past Monday when I saw a screening of Smokin’ Aces on the same day the Razzie nominations were announced. The Razzies salute the worst that Hollywood has to offer each year, and you’d be hard pressed to find anything worse than this mind-numbingly stupid piece of garbage. It’s not a good sign when you think getting into a car accident on the way to the theater would have been time better spent.

Of course, every filmmaker would like to make a version of The Sting, but what writer/director Joe Carnahan fails to realize is The Sting succeeds because the brilliance of the story comes from its believability that the events could realistically happen. He, obviously an attendee of the Tarantino school of filmmaking and deep thinking, wrote a story involving the mob, hit men, and the FBI and apparently conducted his research by watching bad movies.

The film is about Robert “Aces” Israel, a Las Vegas showman with ties to the mob. He is holed up in a Tahoe casino awaiting word on an immunity deal to turn state’s evidence. The mob boss, who appears to be 110, puts a $1 million dollar reward out for Israel with the caveat that he wants Israel’s heart. This is overheard by FBI surveillance and word leaks out to a number of bounty hunters, some smooth, some insane. Now, you may ask obvious questions like why wouldn’t the mob handle this internally or why would they be discussing this over the phone, but you are making the mistake of thinking, which is more than any of the characters or the screenwriter did.

Everyone descends on the hotel. The FBI agents approach as if they forgot there’s a bounty. All the bounty hunters are somehow surprised that $1 million would interest other bounty hunters. Madness and mayhem and death ensues, but quicker than you can say, “Deus Ex Machina,” the Assistant Director of the FBI, who is negotiating the terms with Israel’s attorney in Los Angeles, receives a mysterious, old folder (we can tell it’s old because the prop team made sure to cover it with a ridiculous amount of dust) from Washington DC, which makes the whole story clear and provides a resolution.