Thank God I’m only watching the game, controlling it.
–Murray Head
In an era still reeling from the aftershocks of economic turmoil, Oliver Stone returned to the financial battlefield with Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps, the 2010 sequel to his iconic 1987 film. The original Wall Street became a cultural touchstone, dissecting the greed and excess of the 1980s through the mesmerizingly ruthless Gordon Gekko. Expectations were high for this follow-up, promising a contemporary look at the new face of financial malfeasance in the wake of the 2008 crisis. However, what Stone delivered was less a searing indictment of Wall Street’s excesses and more a tone-deaf melodrama, a cinematic jest that largely misses its mark with the very audience it presumes to address.
The film initially teases a compelling narrative arc for Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas), picking up his story as he emerges from prison in October 2001, a relic of a bygone era in finance. Stripped of his wealth and power, Gekko is presented as a ghost from Wall Street’s past, armed with only his cunning and a pre-digital cell phone. The premise hints at a gripping comeback story, a climb back to the top for the fallen financial titan. Yet, this intriguing setup is quickly sidelined. The narrative abruptly jumps to the fall of 2008, shifting focus to a new protagonist, Jake Moore (Shia LaBeouf), an ambitious young trader at the investment bank Keller/Zabel, teetering on the brink of collapse. This pivot marks the film’s first significant misstep, diverting attention from the promised return of Gekko and onto a character who struggles to resonate with viewers, particularly those outside the rarefied world of high finance.
Jake Moore, living in a sprawling Manhattan apartment with his girlfriend Winnie (Carey Mulligan), is immediately established as a figure of considerable wealth. His financial success is so pronounced that his boss, Louis Zabel (Frank Langella), rewards him with a staggering $1.4 million bonus. While individual success is not inherently alienating, it’s Jake’s subsequent actions with this windfall that detach him from audience empathy. His decisions highlight a disconnect between the film’s portrayal of financial elites and the realities faced by the majority of viewers, especially in the economic climate of 2010. Instead of prudent investment or responsible saving, Jake embarks on a spending spree that underscores the film’s growing insensitivity.
He splurges on an extravagant engagement ring for Winnie, a gesture that, while romantic, feels excessive given the looming financial crisis. He then throws a lavish club night, purchasing champagne for his circle of friends – a celebration noticeably absent of Winnie, who is away on business. This behavior veers into tone-deaf territory, showcasing a protagonist seemingly oblivious to the economic anxieties permeating the world outside his opulent bubble. Culminating in a reckless bet with his friend Robby (John Buffalo Mailer), Jake impulsively invests the remaining million dollars in Keller/Zabel stock, dismissing warnings of the firm’s impending doom. To viewers grappling with job losses and economic uncertainty, Jake’s cavalier disposal of a fortune transforms him from an ambitious protagonist into an out-of-touch caricature. His financial decisions, far from appearing heroic within the context of high finance, read as foolish and unsympathetic to those outside that world.
The film swiftly moves past this point to depict the inevitable downfall of Keller/Zabel. A powerful scene at the U.S. Federal Reserve, reminiscent of The Godfather, showcases Louis Zabel’s desperate plea to a consortium of powerful bankers and government officials to save his firm. Bretton James (Josh Brolin), the head of a rival bank, steps in to acquire the crippled Keller/Zabel for a mere $3 per share, a dramatic plummet from its previous value of $78. The devastating consequences of this takeover are made tragically clear when Louis, despondent and defeated, takes his own life by jumping in front of a subway train. Driven by grief and a thirst for revenge, Jake embarks on a mission to uncover the forces behind Keller/Zabel’s demise, quickly identifying Bretton James as the orchestrating villain. In a predictable turn, Jake infiltrates James’s firm, seeking to dismantle him from within.
Parallel to Jake’s quest for vengeance, the narrative revives Gordon Gekko, now yearning to reconnect with his estranged daughter, Winnie – who, in a strained plot contrivance, is Jake’s girlfriend. Winnie, portrayed as a staunchly principled operator of a liberal news website called Frozen Truth, initially cautions Jake to distance himself from her father. However, after witnessing Gekko deliver a lecture at a university, Jake inexplicably falls under his spell, initiating a clandestine alliance. This unlikely partnership is ostensibly forged to bring down Bretton James, who bears the dual role of villain, having wronged both Jake in the present and Gekko in the past, while also supposedly facilitating a reconciliation between Gekko and Winnie. Yet, throughout a significant portion of the film, Gekko remains a peripheral figure, offering occasional advice and casting longing glances at Winnie, failing to recapture the magnetic menace of his original incarnation. Hints of the award-winning charisma flicker in Douglas’s performance, but the ruthless edge, the captivating amorality of the first film’s Gekko, is noticeably absent. Instead, he seems almost relegated to the role of a moral compass, tasked with steering Jake away from the precipice of financial and personal ruin.
However, in a narrative twist that feels both contrived and anticlimactic, Stone, along with screenwriters Allan Loeb and Stephen Schiff, steers the film towards a clumsy imitation of The Usual Suspects. Through flashbacks and echoing voiceovers, it’s revealed that Gekko’s seemingly reformed demeanor was a calculated facade. He manipulates Jake into persuading Winnie to release the $100 million trust fund Gekko had established for her before his imprisonment. With the funds secured, Gekko vanishes to London, establishing his own investment firm and swiftly ascending to billionaire status – a transformation that positions him as a financial Keyser Soze. Much like Funny People, which veered from the intriguing world of stand-up comedy into an uninspired romantic subplot, Money Never Sleeps falters in its final act, descending into a swamp of unconvincing family drama. Winnie breaks up with Jake. Jake then attempts to broker peace between Gordon and Winnie, motivated by the revelation of Winnie’s pregnancy. Gordon experiences a sudden, unearned epiphany about the primacy of family over wealth, but only after his firm successfully acquires Bretton James’s bank, which had been exposed for practices mirroring Gekko’s own past transgressions. The film culminates in a saccharine tableau of familial reconciliation and improbable wealth for all involved.
To the casual viewer, the ending might appear conventionally feel-good, complete with a charming baby adding to the picture of familial bliss. But a closer examination reveals the deeply unsettling implications of this resolution. The lavish lifestyle on display is financed by the $100 million Gekko returns to Winnie. Tracing the origin and destination of this money exposes the film’s troubling moral compass. The source of the funds is Gekko’s ill-gotten gains from his earlier predatory practices – the wealth amassed through corporate raiding and the destruction of livelihoods. The destination is a company championed by Jake throughout the film, specializing in alternative energy. Throughout the narrative, amidst the unfolding banking and housing crisis, Jake, Gordon, and Bretton repeatedly tout alternative energy as “the next bubble.”
The film’s conclusion suggests that Jake and the Gekkos have become immensely successful in the alternative energy market. This outcome implies either a naive belief in the perpetual sustainability of this “bubble,” or, more cynically, a confidence that they are insulated from its inevitable burst by a vast buffer of disposable wealth. Adding to the unease is the implication that Gordon’s new firm, instrumental in this financial triumph, is unlikely to be generating its vast profits through purely altruistic or socially responsible means. The film’s celebratory ending, therefore, rings hollow, built upon a foundation of ethically questionable wealth accumulation.
In its glib depiction of financial redemption and familial harmony achieved through morally tainted money, Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps surpasses even the much-maligned Sex and the City 2 in its distastefulness. While the characters in Sex and the City 2 are vapid and self-absorbed, they at least lack the veneer of moral justification. The “heroes” of Stone’s Wall Street world, however, cloak themselves in a guise of humanity, while demonstrating a profound detachment from the economic realities of the audience. Stone’s decision to release this film during a period of widespread economic hardship, marked by high unemployment and social unease, is baffling. It presents a “Let Them Eat Cake” message at a time when empathy and understanding were desperately needed. Is Stone so out of touch that he believes viewers will sympathize with Jake’s financial strain, which involves tightening his belt to lend his struggling real estate agent mother (Susan Sarandon) $30,000 – on top of a previous $200,000 loan?
Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps ultimately stands as a precious and self-congratulatory cinematic endeavor. One can only hope that a deleted scene exists where Gordon delivers a toast at his grandson’s birthday party, opening with a tone-deaf joke about luxury cars and golf. The punchline, in such a scenario, would undoubtedly be met with uproarious laughter from his fellow elites, while the catering staff, the true embodiment of economic reality, would be discreetly checking their watches, hoping to make it to their next, or perhaps second, job on time.
