Paul Walter Hauser Endearingly Presses His Luck as The Luckiest Man in America

Michael Larson’s Wikipedia page recounts the story of a man who has lived one hell of a life. For the most part, however, The Luckiest Man in America is only interested in a single day of it.
The year is 1984. After being taken pity on by producer Bill Carruthers (David Strathairn) following a bumbling audition, ice cream seller Michael Larson (Paul Walter Hauser) is cast as a contestant on the popular TV quiz show Press Your Luck. The game sees the contestants asked trivia questions for the chance to take on the “Big Board.” That board is full of prizes–cash and holidays–but also contains “Whammys,” which will take the contestant back down to zero. The players try to hit a buzzer at the right time, choosing when to keep going, and when to settle for the prizes they have, so as not to run the risk of hitting any Whammys, and losing everything.
At first, Michael’s success on the Big Board just appears like good luck. But the more he keeps winning, blasting through the show’s previous records, the more it seems like something nefarious might be going on. The Luckiest Man In America follows both Michael’s on-camera game, and the frantic scrabble behind-the-scenes to work out what is happening.
Although Larson’s life was packed with movie-worthy events, the decision of writer-director Samir Oliveros and co-scribe Maggie Briggs to keep their focus narrow turns out to be a (largely) good one. It’s easy to imagine a version of this film that purely played like a live-action rundown of that Wikipedia page, ticking off the pertinent facts without fleshing out the emotional details, or doing anything to make the action cinematic. Oliveros and Briggs craft a feature that’s richer than that, and much more evocative. It could be fairly said, however, that they sometimes drift too far down the opposite track; there are instances where a little extra detail would have been welcome, especially in regards to Larson’s life before he turned up at the CBS studios.
Oliveros’ direction focuses on the high-key unreality of being on a game show; the flashing lights, the spinning sets, the audiences told when to clap and when to boo. Press Your Luck is referred to as the “most Vegas” game show on television, and we can see how easily contestants could be hypnotized into gambling away their winnings. The temptation toward risk is impossible to resist. Though it’s set mostly in one location, Oliveros’ camera floats and weaves and bobs, maintaining a dynamism, while simultaneously giving us a practical idea of how the different parts of the studio relate to one another. His direction is an intriguing, successful mix of the dreamlike and the tangible.