You likely haven’t heard of Michael Larson. In 1984, he took the TV game show Press Your Luck by storm, winning an unheard of $110,000 in a game that relies on luck, not skill…or so the producers thought. Memorizing the algorithm of the game’s patterns, Larson was able to beat the game but not without some challenges along the way. Director Samir Oliveros chronicles the taping of the fated episode in The Luckiest Man In America featuring Paul Walter Hauser as Larson.

Michael Larson is a loser at the game of life. Eccentric and odd, the ice cream truck driver is estranged from his family when he rolls onto the CBS lot. Coming off as more pathetic than slick, Larson is cast on the show by series creator Bill Carruthers (David Strathairn). At first, Larson seems to have some incredible luck racking up cash, but soon joy over his hot streak becomes panic from the execs behind-the-scenes as there appears to be no stopping Larson from bankrupting the show.

While Larson may be the focal point of The Luckiest Man In America, the film’s most interesting part is what takes place off-camera in the control room. Fearing for their jobs and convinced he’s cheating, Bill and his floor director and producer Chuck (the always great Torontonian, Shamir Anderson) dig into Larson’s life to trip him up. It’s this dynamic between Strathairn and Anderson that is the film’s highlight bringing corporate greed, personal gain, and all the everyday drama that goes into delivering a TV show to air to light.

There is little mystery to Larson as his character and motives are almost immediately addressed in the film. Instead, audiences are just here to see exactly how long his winning streak can continue. Oliveros and co-writer Maggie Briggs don’t provide much more than surface-level character development. Their focus is the here and now as they reveal a few snippets of Larson’s personal life. Because Larson is an oddball, it’s hard to truly identify with him or fully root for him knowing his charade will come crashing down at any minute. Though he might be a winner according to the game board, he’s still a loser (the real-life Larson appears more charming and graceful in show clips than Hauser’s pathetic version).

Feeling and looking very much like 1984 is one of the more charming aspects of Oliveros’ film, from the Press Your Luck replica set to the costumes and labyrinthine backstage of the studio. As Larson starts losing his composure, the once exciting set feels more foreboding as the producers and show host Peter Tomarken (Walton Goggins) attempt to trip him up.

Knowing the outcome of Larson’s appearance as the “man who broke” Press Your Luck makes it difficult to build any true tension in the gameplay aspect of the story. Unlike Robert Redford’s masterful Quiz Show, there is no suspense to be built around Larson’s moral conscience for beating the game; he’s a man who was determined to win and he does. Though still an entertaining 90-minute film, The Luckiest Man In America fails to reach its full potential resulting in a less-than-satisfying portrait.

The Luckiest Man In America screened as part of the Toronto International Film Festival. Head here for more from TIFF 2024.