Ever since the considerable success of Reservoir Dogs, the direct-to-video caper-film genre has been deluged with witless, anemic films that slavishly borrow from that film without offering a trace of its wit, cinematic style, or inventiveness. In the exciting tradition, then, of such other also-rans as Truth Or Consequences, N.M.; The Last Days Of Frankie The Fly; and Love & A 45 comes James Merendino's The Real Thing (a.k.a. Livers Ain't Cheap), the latest D.O.A. entry in the Next Quentin Tarantino Sweepstakes. By now, the genre has developed its own formula: First, assemble a quirky cast of second-tier character actors who will work cheap; in this case, the list includes Oscar nominees Rod Steiger and Gary Busey, as well as James Russo, Jeremy Piven, Emily Lloyd, and underground cult hero Joe Dallesandro. Next, add a convoluted, complicated heist plot, this time involving the heist of two suitcases of money from a New Year's Eve party. Then, stir in plenty of long, pointless monologues and needlessly elaborate camera movement, the better to hide the film's empty derivativeness. Finally, add a bloody, nihilistic ending that kills off the vast majority of film's cast. The frustrating thing about The Real Thing is that it's not entirely worthless: It has visual flair, and its final 10 minutes are genuinely exciting. But the remaining 80 minutes or so are so self-infatuated, arty, pretentious, and insufferably smug that they render The Real Thing all but unwatchable.