Few films have captured so accurately the true nature of gambling as has Owning Mahowny. First there was Air Bud. Then there was Air Bud 2. And now this, the final installment in the triumvirate of films about dashed dreams and unfortunate morals. Not that these films were all about gambling per se, but that they evoked it in spirit. For just like the act of gambling itself, or indeed, not unlike the Air Bud movies, Owning Mahowny seems enticing at first, that is, when you and your friends are just planning to see it, joking that you might strike big, that this might be the one movie that comes out of nowhere to surprise you, but then from the moment you enter the theatre, every time you give this movie a chance, it's just one bad hand after the other, until eventually you are completely numb to it, and you stop paying attention to your wife, and you start cutting out of work early, and you no longer enjoy anything again in life anymore because all you want is your Owning Mahowny. You must have your Owning Mahowny. "Just let me watch five more minutes," you say, "and I swear it will get good. It's due." Which is a shame really, because the movie just really blows.<br /><br />In fact, they should have called it Blowing Mahowny, or Owning Baloney, or some reasonable facsimile--only then the ace detective on the trail of Mahowny would not be able to wittily observe that "Mahowny" spells "How many?" when the letters are rearranged and a question mark is inserted, which is a lazy anagram at best as it only requires two permutations. A much better one is "O Man Why?" as in "O man why, o why upon why o man did this movie even get made?" or "O man why didn't I save that $7 for Vegas where I could be far better entertained by an hour and a half at the nickel slots?"<br /><br />Nothing against Mr. Hoffman, who is one of the finest, most important actors of our day, but this movie has nothing to hold him up. It is not worthy of his talents. The dialogue is forced and hackneyed, never fully deciding if it wants to be moralistic or sympathetic, but always settling on being just plain crappy. The protagonist is never shown to have a single redeeming quality, except possibly in the end, when he tells his girlfriend "I love you too" and kisses her hand, and this is supposed to make up for the fact that she has always come in a strong second to his addiction. Apparently in real life they got married eventually, but the characters in this movie could never have gotten married in more than a postscript, because they were just too ingenuine, and the movie omits any moments that could have explained why on earth they ever got together in the first place.<br /><br />There was something maniacal about the casino boss who was so inviting to Mahowny but at the same time stood to gain millions of dollars from him and completely ruin him. A better movie would have explored this, but this one was content to revel in his clown-like antics. Elsewhere, the token black floorman and the Italian bookie were an insult to multicultural casting. And what was with the suspicious co-worker at the bank, or even more so, the scruffy cop who tracked Mahowny down? He was clearly a ripoff of Brad Pitt's scruffy cop from Seven, only in that movie, Pitt was chasing someone actually scruff-worthy. No, this movie would have been better suited with a Fedora-clad Tom Hanks in a fake Boston accent. Perhaps these characters were all based on real-life scruffy or ethnic people, but this movie didn't convince me as much.<br /><br />In the end, on a scale of 100, with 100 being Air Bud 2, I give Owning Mahowny a 20. And sure, maybe 20's good enough for some people--even Mahowny himself. But me, I just want my money back.