(I have revised my review of this film in lieu of a second viewing. The rating has been adjusted from a perfect ***** to ***1/2)
David O. Russell. A man of many films. A man of many actors. His past 3 films alone have garnered an unheard of 25 Oscar nominations. 11 acting nominations. He's obviously doing something right. His films are evocative, natural, focused on characters over story, and herein lies the problem with his latest caper. What initially struck me as a masterpiece comedy - the best con film since perhaps "The Sting" - has simply pulled the wool over the eyes of the audience. The con, in fact, seems to be on us. Here is a film that is glitz and glamour, yet with a simple repeated viewing, I realized it was merely a flash in the pan.
The film still functions on the merits of its plot. We meet Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale, in his career-best role), the great con artist who teams with Sydney Prosser aka Lady Edith Greensly aka Amy Adams, a woman from New Mexico posing as a lucrative Londoner who simply overflows with sex appeal. They are having an affair, because guess what? Rosenfeld is married with a child, and his wife is nutty in all the wrong ways (the ingenious Jennifer Lawrence). No matter, they meet FBI Agent Richard "Richie" DiMaso (Bradley Cooper). Together, they hope to bring down the Mayor of Camden, New Jersey. Together, they plan the ultimate heist. Or so we think. Or do we?
Simple, right? Not so fast. The film is littered with tidbits and supporting characters and locations - they weave together as though part of a larger story waiting to be revealed. Take DiMaso's supervisor (Louis CK) - throughout the film, we hear his story of a childhood ice fishing trip. The story itself is told in fragments, seemingly aimed at giving DiMaso some sort of moral compass. Or something. Or is it? We never hear the end, we never see what the purpose of CK's character was, let alone the absurd dynamic between these two men. In individual scenes, his narration of his time spent on a lake engages you, pulls you in. Watch the film again, and you're left in the dark, wondering why these scenes were ever included to begin with. That seems to be the case with the majority of the film: scenes work beautifully on their own, but what does the final product amount to?
I'll hand it to O. Russell, though. This film is a touchstone in acting, and without a doubt it belongs to Christian Bale. You remember he won an Oscar for "the Fighter" a few years ago. This performance in "Hustle" is astonishing. Gaining 40 pounds and developing a comb-over, Bale slips into character and absolutely floored me with every scene. Masterful acting, and with any justice he will receive a Best Actor nomination. Lawrence is equally good as a scene-stealer, slowly developing into a leading lady (or is she blending with her public persona as a comic relief of sorts?). Amy Adams also delivers the goods, and reminds us why we need her starring in more leading roles.
The film remains gorgeous, with stunning sets, costumes, and hair. Perhaps, then, it's a film that might be even better watched on mute. In a way, I wish I never saw the film again. I wish I could preserve that sense of magic I had the first time I saw it. I wish I could still think of it as one of the year's best films. In the end, I can't lie to myself. American Hustle is a major misfire.
(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Bale), Best Actress (Adams), Best Supporting Actor (Cooper), Best Supporting Actress (Lawrence), Best Original Screenplay, Best Editing, Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Makeup)
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