In a scene in David O. Russell's riotous crowd-pleaser, an FBI agent observes, "This whole thing is racist. Abscam? "Arab-scam"? It's completely racist!" The guy in question, a proud Mexican minus an accent, is being dressed and drilled to carry out a sting operation to criminate a mafia mob and a couple of US Congressmen by posing as an Arab. To which his peppy, batty senior casually quips, "So, what do you have to worry about, Sheik? You're Mexican."
That, among the many very funny moments in the film, was where I screamed with laughter so loud that I invited a few miffed glances. I couldn't help it, and that's what American Hustle makes you do. When you're watching it, you're so involved in its world and characters that everything else seems picayune. Like breaking into loud guffaws in an empty theater.
I'll tell you something straight up - I can't say I'm a fan of David O. Russell, but I really enjoy his work. I liked Three Kings, really liked The Fighter and liked Silver Linings Playbook. The point is, I didn't love any of his films. His style of storytelling is kinetic, infused with a blast of humor and drama while also being self-involved and spectacularly excessive. It's a fail-safe cinematic technique, used to great effect by the legendary Martin Scorsese in his crime-operas in the '90's.
Russell valiantly ventures into the Scorsese-esque territory with aplomb in American Hustle, a territory where many filmmakers have been to heaps of times before and failed despicably. He's got the zing factor perfectly in place, he's armed with a splendidly funny script he co-penned with Eric Warren Singer and he's got a dream cast to help the plot chug along. But what he lacks, and what makes Scorsese Scorsese, is a cohesive narrative.
Russell wanted the film to be about the characters and not about the plot, and that's what he got. The characters are the real deal here, but that's not to say that the plot is dreadful. On the contrary, it's one of the most wildly inventive films of last year that I've seen, a densely plotted, well-edited script that keeps you engrossed till the final showdown. We're cheekily told that some of this actually happened, which actually means that the writers and the director have taken considerable liberties in order to deliver a gobsmacking piece of cinema. You know, that's totally understandable and mite sad too, because if this were a completely original script, I'd have been rhapsodizing it.
The film opens in a hotel room, where a paunchy Irving Rosenfeld is working on his toupee with great concentration, combing and gluing it till it's perfectly in place. Rosenfeld is the kind of guy you instantly label as a dork because he wears gaudy clothes and tinted sunglasses that don't match his persona, but when he starts talking and conning, you start believing. He has the brains you don't have. Christian Bale, gaining fifty pounds for his role, is a live-wire. What he can achieve as an actor beyond his Batman role is astonishing, revealing great emotional depth to his character that almost no one in the film achieves. Almost.
His partner-in-crime is Sydney Prosser, a glamorous, swindling femme fatale who walks and talks with an unmatched swagger. I had doubted if Amy Adams was indeed suited for this role because she had played characters which were contradictions to her character in this film in Doubt and The Master. Adams, the magnificent Adams, gives an edgy, nuanced performance that rightfully fetched her an Oscar nomination this year.
The guy who leads the coup is FBI agent Richie DiMaso, a likable loony eternally on steroids. Bradley Cooper plays him with a striking screen-presence and infectious avidity. In a priceless sequence, DiMaso mimics his boss with such surprising accuracy that my sides throbbed sharply from laughing. DiMaso nets the two partners-cum-lovers and agrees to unfetter them only if they help him net a few more. Irving is doubtful, Sydney is ready. The plan is set, a really simple one on paper until it spins out of control as DiMaso's unquenchable greed gets the better of him.
And completing this cast of casts are Jennifer Lawrence and Jeremy Renner, two future luminaries who get better and better with their films. Lawrence's character of Rosalyn Rosenfeld, Irving's neglected wife, is feisty and kooky, an incredibly bovine, reckless and unfit mother of an adopted child who blows up a microwave, the science oven, which she disparages because she believes it takes all the nutrition out of the food. Lawrence is in top form here, playing an odious yet sympathetic character who thinks it's interesting to talk about the smell of nail-polish on dinner dates. She also provides a great number of chuckles here but it's more of a plaintive character who needs to be listened to. Renner sleepwalks through it all, and a role like this would've been a piece of cake for an actor of his calibre.
The plot unfolds like a breathless sprint through the mafioso and politics of the Americana of the '70's. Russell isn't content with his film being limited to being a caper, and he goes for the big catch that'll do Scorsese proud. Involving sex, money, politics and con games to an already risque plot, it's an insanely ambitious risk to take, but here's what - he pulls it off. Yes, he does. Though I'd have enjoyed more it if it were a bit less indulgent, it's grand to watch a filmmaker imbue his baby with the daft risks you think won't pay off but they eventually do. Russell is a sagacious raconteur who needs to make more films.
A few days ago, I was on Twitter, one of my sparse appearances there, but I was simply interested in getting the pulp of the buzz that had surrounded the newly-announced Oscar nominations. And there, I read a snide tweet from a guy, who expressed his contempt for the ten nods American Hustle received, calling it to be also nominated for Best Impression Of A Great Movie. Ouch! That's a pretty hefty blow, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Still can't. And as I mull over those words, I find myself agreeing to some extent. Yes, this isn't a new concept but it's done differently. I found it to be an original potboiler, but if you aren't of the same opinion, there's a very slim chance you might like it. Yes, there are minor stretches of boredom when the plot swerves from its course one too many times, and you find yourself trapped. A couple of inessential characters try to provide some depth to a plot that needs to be enjoyed in the moment, and that's where it goes awry. But the moments are far too few to be bothered about.
American Hustle will almost certainly guarantee you a blast at the movies. It's frenetic, loud and a jolt of adrenaline that never stops to catch its breath. Walking into it is like walking into a perky pool party you don't want to leave.
Let it control you, that's how you enjoy it. Like a cocktail.
That, among the many very funny moments in the film, was where I screamed with laughter so loud that I invited a few miffed glances. I couldn't help it, and that's what American Hustle makes you do. When you're watching it, you're so involved in its world and characters that everything else seems picayune. Like breaking into loud guffaws in an empty theater.
I'll tell you something straight up - I can't say I'm a fan of David O. Russell, but I really enjoy his work. I liked Three Kings, really liked The Fighter and liked Silver Linings Playbook. The point is, I didn't love any of his films. His style of storytelling is kinetic, infused with a blast of humor and drama while also being self-involved and spectacularly excessive. It's a fail-safe cinematic technique, used to great effect by the legendary Martin Scorsese in his crime-operas in the '90's.
Russell valiantly ventures into the Scorsese-esque territory with aplomb in American Hustle, a territory where many filmmakers have been to heaps of times before and failed despicably. He's got the zing factor perfectly in place, he's armed with a splendidly funny script he co-penned with Eric Warren Singer and he's got a dream cast to help the plot chug along. But what he lacks, and what makes Scorsese Scorsese, is a cohesive narrative.
Russell wanted the film to be about the characters and not about the plot, and that's what he got. The characters are the real deal here, but that's not to say that the plot is dreadful. On the contrary, it's one of the most wildly inventive films of last year that I've seen, a densely plotted, well-edited script that keeps you engrossed till the final showdown. We're cheekily told that some of this actually happened, which actually means that the writers and the director have taken considerable liberties in order to deliver a gobsmacking piece of cinema. You know, that's totally understandable and mite sad too, because if this were a completely original script, I'd have been rhapsodizing it.
The film opens in a hotel room, where a paunchy Irving Rosenfeld is working on his toupee with great concentration, combing and gluing it till it's perfectly in place. Rosenfeld is the kind of guy you instantly label as a dork because he wears gaudy clothes and tinted sunglasses that don't match his persona, but when he starts talking and conning, you start believing. He has the brains you don't have. Christian Bale, gaining fifty pounds for his role, is a live-wire. What he can achieve as an actor beyond his Batman role is astonishing, revealing great emotional depth to his character that almost no one in the film achieves. Almost.
His partner-in-crime is Sydney Prosser, a glamorous, swindling femme fatale who walks and talks with an unmatched swagger. I had doubted if Amy Adams was indeed suited for this role because she had played characters which were contradictions to her character in this film in Doubt and The Master. Adams, the magnificent Adams, gives an edgy, nuanced performance that rightfully fetched her an Oscar nomination this year.
The guy who leads the coup is FBI agent Richie DiMaso, a likable loony eternally on steroids. Bradley Cooper plays him with a striking screen-presence and infectious avidity. In a priceless sequence, DiMaso mimics his boss with such surprising accuracy that my sides throbbed sharply from laughing. DiMaso nets the two partners-cum-lovers and agrees to unfetter them only if they help him net a few more. Irving is doubtful, Sydney is ready. The plan is set, a really simple one on paper until it spins out of control as DiMaso's unquenchable greed gets the better of him.
And completing this cast of casts are Jennifer Lawrence and Jeremy Renner, two future luminaries who get better and better with their films. Lawrence's character of Rosalyn Rosenfeld, Irving's neglected wife, is feisty and kooky, an incredibly bovine, reckless and unfit mother of an adopted child who blows up a microwave, the science oven, which she disparages because she believes it takes all the nutrition out of the food. Lawrence is in top form here, playing an odious yet sympathetic character who thinks it's interesting to talk about the smell of nail-polish on dinner dates. She also provides a great number of chuckles here but it's more of a plaintive character who needs to be listened to. Renner sleepwalks through it all, and a role like this would've been a piece of cake for an actor of his calibre.
The plot unfolds like a breathless sprint through the mafioso and politics of the Americana of the '70's. Russell isn't content with his film being limited to being a caper, and he goes for the big catch that'll do Scorsese proud. Involving sex, money, politics and con games to an already risque plot, it's an insanely ambitious risk to take, but here's what - he pulls it off. Yes, he does. Though I'd have enjoyed more it if it were a bit less indulgent, it's grand to watch a filmmaker imbue his baby with the daft risks you think won't pay off but they eventually do. Russell is a sagacious raconteur who needs to make more films.
A few days ago, I was on Twitter, one of my sparse appearances there, but I was simply interested in getting the pulp of the buzz that had surrounded the newly-announced Oscar nominations. And there, I read a snide tweet from a guy, who expressed his contempt for the ten nods American Hustle received, calling it to be also nominated for Best Impression Of A Great Movie. Ouch! That's a pretty hefty blow, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Still can't. And as I mull over those words, I find myself agreeing to some extent. Yes, this isn't a new concept but it's done differently. I found it to be an original potboiler, but if you aren't of the same opinion, there's a very slim chance you might like it. Yes, there are minor stretches of boredom when the plot swerves from its course one too many times, and you find yourself trapped. A couple of inessential characters try to provide some depth to a plot that needs to be enjoyed in the moment, and that's where it goes awry. But the moments are far too few to be bothered about.
American Hustle will almost certainly guarantee you a blast at the movies. It's frenetic, loud and a jolt of adrenaline that never stops to catch its breath. Walking into it is like walking into a perky pool party you don't want to leave.
Let it control you, that's how you enjoy it. Like a cocktail.
I came out of the theater with a gloomy face. And so did my friend who accompanied me.
ReplyDeleteThis movie turned out to be a big, big disappointment.
Of course, I loved the portrayal of characters. Amy Adams did steal the show for me. But, I beg to differ, to say this movie is "a jolt of adrenaline that never stops to catch its breath" is nothing but an exaggeration.
It's a bummer of a potboiler. Period.
Hey, it wasn't that bad! You seem to hate it. I liked it. It wasn't great, it wasn't memorable but it was harmless fun. And pretty smart too.
DeleteI don't hate it.
DeleteI 'only' liked it.
With a star-cast like that, I expected much more from the movie.
Agreed- Not memorable but definitely worth a watch.