The Get Out will be released in select theaters on June 26, and on Digital and On Demand on June 30.

Russell Crowe's Albanian night club owner tries to retire from the money laundering business in the LA-set misfire, The Get Out, an underworld crime caper that tries but fails to capture the charm and richness of writers like Elmore Leonard (and filmmaker fans of Leonard like Tarantino).

Before delving into shortcomings, let's note that Crowe himself is the most vibrant part of the film. It's a good reminder of how fun he can be as a comedic performer, though the side effect of The Get Out could be making you watch The Nice Guys again (which also includes pining for a sequel). As earnest, hardworking Marco Kapak, who is truly in love with his much younger girlfriend, Sunny (Teresa Palmer), Crowe anchors the film while providing the best balance of tone.

Kapak is a quasi-criminal in a landscape of more brutal cartel characters (which allows for a Pope's Exorcist reunion with Daniel Zovatto), but The Get Out — originally titled Bear Country — feels like a mess of a story lacking the spark of cleverness to excuse all the rambling. Directed by Derrick Borte and adapted from a novel by Thomas Perry, the film isn't fun enough to warrant its '90s-style crime ensemble, nor are the moments of violence that are meant to act in contrast to its lighter elements captivating enough to add true excitement. Ultimately, it's a parade of half-measures.

After a heart attack makes Kapak rethink his current vocation, setting his sights on a relaxing future away from his current stress, he starts making moves to sell off his club. Enter Aaron Paul's Jeff, a poor schmo who's in over his head and forced to act as a sabotaging pawn. Jeff's story is the least satisfying of the bunch, as Paul is given only constant anxiety and frustration to play, with no narrative reprieve.

The Vampire Diaries' Nina Dobrev plays a wild card bank teller who attaches herself to Jeff (as one more melodramtic bad thing in Jeff's sad life), but she's just given the "crazy" card to work with and a token pop culture reference to wear as her identity. The Get Out sets up a lot of moving parts, including Luke Evans and Josh McConville as different parts of the law enforcement spectrum with secrets of their own. There's the whispered promise of things colliding in a twisty, rewarding way, but the third act is pretty flat, and we're never given a decent surprise or revelation.

With some format tinkering, The Get Out could have had some zigs and zags to make things more entertaining, but instead we're shown everyone's hand when we meet them, and then we just watch them randomly succeed or fail. Crowe maintains his charisma throughout, but the story — which aims for the comedy of errors/serendipity circus vibe — is too dry and toothless.