‘Lottery' cashes in on laughter, good cast

Bow Wow, left, and Loretta Devine are shown in a scene from "Lottery Ticket." Enlarge

You know what to expect from the PG-13 Lottery Ticket: cheap laughs, enough profanity to make your mom blush, and some violence for good measure. After all, the master of these kinds of films, Ice Cube, was one of the movie's executive producers and stars.

But what will catch you off guard is the heart Lottery Ticket has as well, thanks to writer and first-time director Erik White. Yes, the film is occasionally crass and reasonably funny, but White, along with co-writer Abdul Williams, also working on his first film, elevates Lottery Ticket into something of substance with a core message about helping others.

The simple age-old moral anchors the comedy, and gives it a real purpose, beyond stringing together jokes with about a 60 percent success rate.

White and Williams center their story around Kevin Carson (Bow Wow, representing himself well in his first major film role), a recent high school graduate who lives with his grandmother (Loretta Devine) in the ghetto. Kevin is a good kid — a telling sign is that he never curses around his grandmother — who works as a salesman at a local Foot Locker while he dreams of a better life. That opportunity happens when he becomes the sole winner of a $370 million lottery jackpot. Almost instantly, Kevin's life changes, but not necessarily for the better.

Far from parading the perks of instant multimillionaire status, Lottery Ticket delves into the inherent avarice in our DNA, which is where the film is most interesting.

It doesn't take much imagination to conjure images of what life would be like to become an overnight multimillionaire and the ensuing problems such instant wealth would create, as everyone wants a piece of the cash pie. And Lottery Ticket paints a strikingly accurate picture of that mayhem, as Kevin's friends and neighbors badger him incessantly for money and gifts, forcing him to hide from the mob.

Not everyone is changed by Kevin's net worth, though, including best friend Benny (Brandon T. Jackson) and longtime pal Stacie (Naturi Naughton), the only girl who's really right for him, though he doesn't know it — yet.

With the lottery office closed for the July Fourth three-day weekend, the three band together to keep Kevin safe until he can cash in the winning ticket.

Their biggest obstacles are "super thug" Lorenzo (Gbenga Akinnagbe), who wants the ticket for himself, and neighborhood Godfather, Sweet Tee (Keith David), who, yes, makes Kevin an offer he can't refuse: a substantial loan and a personal bodyguard to ensure he and his future riches are safe.

Kevin cannot help but get caught up in the money madness, and blows through Sweet Tee's loan during a 24-hour spending spree.

As he faces the financial perils of his future, he must examine his own moral compass and how his newfound wealth can help or hinder himself and those around him.

Guiding him with wee bits of wisdom is a mysterious recluse, the elderly Mr. Washington (Ice Cube with makeup, and lots of gray hair), a former boxer who's now retired to a basement apartment eavesdropping on the world outside.

Lottery Ticket is full of such stock characters, including the gossipy neighbor, Semaj (a funny Charlie Murphy), the hot girl who is using her only asset to get ahead, Nikki (Teairra Mari), and the money-minded Reverend Taylor (Mike Epps, who delivers the funniest lines in the film in a brief part).

But the core characters have a ring of truth to them and their actions. The triumvirate of Bow Wow, Jackson, and Naughton make for a lively group of onscreen friends and keep the movie going while giving you something — someone — to root for.

Lottery Ticket is a film that could have gone wrong in so many ways, but it doesn't. While the comedy doesn't break new ground, it does offer up some laughs and, most importantly, a few moments to ponder, as in "what would I do in this situation?"

Considering the dearth of good films this summer, that's a pretty good combination.

Contact Kirk Baird at

kbaird@theblade.com

or 419-724-6734.