The new poker documentary “No Limit” mucks a potential winner because the protagonist, while easy on the eyes, never really goes all-in. At least we never see her do it, whether it’s on the felt or with the painstaking emotional swings and adversity that confront every would-be poker player.

The movie’s primary strength, unfortunately, magnifies its biggest weakness. There are dynamite interviews with several noted poker professionals, who give refreshingly candid takes on the highs of winning, the lows of losing, and the mental toughness needed to survive in a cruel and often ruthless game.

Daniel Negreanu, whose reputation for friendliness at the table might precede that of his success, shows a side viewers probably have never seen. He states that he relentlessly goes after his opponents, so much so that if he is aware one is having personal problems, he will target that specific individual because he knows his opponent has a vulnerable mindset. Afterward, he might buy the guy a beer and sympathize with his problem, but at the table, “I want to rip the guy’s heart out and stomp on it.”

Other neat tidbits come from poker legends such as Bobby Baldwin (“Everything in life parallels a card game … most of life is understanding other people”) and legendary theoretician David Sklansky, who states that the implied odds of chasing a long-shot dream are probably worth the quality it will add to your life, even if you stand little chance of succeeding, because the flipside is living with the empty feeling of regret.

Or, as professional Kenna James puts it: “Poker is a microcosm of life. It will either educate you and you’ll learn a lot from it, or it will break you.”

The problem with “No Limit” is that our hero, a sultry single mom named Susan Genard, is that we’re not sure whether she experienced either end of the spectrum by the conclusion of the film.

It’s not that the long-haired brunette enjoys losing, but she doesn’t seem to agonize over it as you would expect someone who was running bad might. Most of the poker “action” we see involving her shows the dealer pushing someone else the pot, and her complaints of bad beats and dead cards. But we never really find out the “why,” when it comes to Genard’s motivation for her poker journey, which included a brief series of medium buy-in events capped by her shot at the big time in a $5,000 World Series of Poker tournament. Most aspiring poker players have something that makes them tick, a burning desire to either capture either the money, fame, sense of achievement or some combination therein that pushes them back to the tables despite the inevitable heartache the endeavor entails. With Genard, we’re never quite sure.

The closest we get is when Genard concedes early on that it basically seemed like a good idea at the time, which came on the heels of former amateur Chris Moneymaker’s stunning win in the 2003 Main Event. She reckons, perhaps correctly, that the timing was ripe to get a piece of the poker-boom pie by producing a well-done documentary with the help of former love interest and movie producer Tim Rhys, and herself as the star. We find out she is qualified for the poker part – her camera-friendliness never is in question -- because she used to take the game somewhat seriously, and once won a small tournament for $8,000 that earned her a mention in Card Player magazine.

Which seems like a promising enough premise, and “No Limit” does have it moments. But what it lacks is a moment of truth, that time when everything is on the line and a poker player’s entire livelihood and will are tested. We want to see Genard stare down an opponent as he or she calmly pushes all their chips into the center and put her to the ultimate test. We want to see the pain, fear and thought process of her decision. Moreover, we want to feel this moment, because it’s a rite of passage for all poker wannabes taking the next step.

Instead, we get mostly happy scenes of Genard engaging other players at the table; the men seem drawn to her looks and bubbly personality while the women, including pros such as Kathy Liebert, appear visibly annoyed. What we don’t see is any real defining conflict or triumph.

And just when it seems we might get there, the cameras literally stop rolling. Her confidence and bankroll bolstered by a good night in a side game, Genard enters the $5,000 Omaha eight-or-better event at the WSOP. But unfortunately for team “No Limit” – and to nobody’s surprise – ESPN’s exclusive rights to the event in its contract with Harrah’s leaves the “No Limit” cameras and erstwhile film partner Tim Rhys on the rail. What should have been the film’s climax is reduced to a series of cell phone updates to Rhys, who eagerly awaits the news from the sidelines.

Which, coincidentally, is where the soulful director finds himself in more ways than one. This might be an underdeveloped storyline. If Genard’s true motivation might be a mystery, such is not the case for Rhys. The father of her young son, it seems he puts up with Genard’s demands, complaints and general high maintenance not because he anticipates “No Limit” becoming a box-office smash, but because he still loves her. It’s evident in his face and, when he finds out Genard is pregnant with her new lover – which is a bit of a shock, because we weren’t told she had a new lover – we know Rhys is lying when he claims he is not heartbroken, but is “disappointed by the timing” of the pregnancy. The fact that Rhys is easier to root for than his poker-playing counterpart doesn’t help the film at all.

Another flaw is in the title, which might be a tad misleading. “No Limit” is a catchy phrase that represents the game and the lifestyle, but Genard’s chosen games are fixed-limit Omaha and Stud eight-or-better. There’s nothing wrong with this, but given that the nation’s obsession was built on the form of poker that bears the film’s title, it would have been nice to see her play at least one or two hold’em tournaments.

But this oversight seems about par for the course for what amounts to a sincere but seemingly incomplete story. “No Limit” is a sometimes boring, sometimes entertaining, sometimes touching, often bizarre poker journey and, while we don’t know what Susan Genard learned from the experience, we do know she looked good doing it.