Movies become part of the problem, though. Blow skirts too far in the opposite direction, glamorizing George Jung's early exploits as he enormously profits from selling weed on the beaches of California, then uses his connections to smuggle dope in from Columbia in secret stashes or on private flights. Paul Thomas Anderson strained to get us to love Marky Mark in Boogie Nights , through a series of plot mechanizations that are as thin as they are obvious. Yet people seem to fall for it. I'm sure we'd feel sorry for James Wilkes Booth's arrest if we weren't privy to the knowledge that he shot Abe Lincoln.
Blow works the same way.
We only see the good times. George Jung is later revealed to love his little daughter, the only thing that keeps him going. To compensate for our soft-shell dimwit of a protagonist, Blow incorporates a hot soundtrack and gleaming montages to create the illusion that things are moving fast in the lugubrious two hour running time. George Jung starts out a loser, he earns some money, he loses it, then he goes back to being a loser. No one will blink.