There's this about THE GOOD GUY: As writer-director Julio Depietro's debut, it's an assured foray, styled just so and peppered with all the right elements for a film about twentysomething Manhattanites defining themselves at work and in love. The trading pit patois is spot-on, no surprise given Depietro's experience working at an investment firm. Despite this, the film's unexceptional. For starters, the characters are rote: Tommy's co-workers are fratty traders who play sadistic games and down shots after shots in bars filled with hot women. Bledel plays the prototypical sweet girl (her only role lately, it seems); her girlfriends are all turned off by the dating scene. Greenberg's character, Daniel, has no trajectory; he begins and ends in the same spot. And Andrew McCarthy makes a swaggering, foul-mouthed appearance as a boss, but it's all for show.
As for Tommy, though he's slightly better written, he's still transparent. Why bother to plumb the depths when one can already predict what's underneath? More problematic is the tone: Is the film a romance? A rebuke of Wall Street? A sinister treatise on dating? All of the above? Perhaps none: Its versions of all these options are wan and superficial. The Good Guy is certainly ambitious, but as many Manhattanites will attest, ambition will only go so far.