★★★★☆
Four Stars
Christian Bale’s orb-like belly and elaborate comb-over have become an iconic part of American Hustle. Bale’s commitment to modifying his body for screen rolesis well known and in this film he stands out in a story that places huge emphasis on the physicality of its characters. Through the eyes of Bale’s simian con-man Irving Rosenfeld, we watch an FBI operation to sting New Jersey’s benevolent mayor Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner) veer from one disaster to another.
The film is studded with performances that remind us that we’re really watching a comedy. Bradley Cooper’s Richie DiMaso, the FBI agent who brings in Rosenfeld to take down Polito, is a character that gloriously pricks Hollywood’s ‘rookie’ cliché. His swaggering often tips into neurosis, joining Rosenfeld’s partner and mistress Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams) in a rollercoaster of building and spent tensions.
Jennifer Lawrence gives an Oscar-worthy performance as Irving’s wife Rosalyn, breathing new life into a potentially tired role as a con-man’s hair-in-rollers spouse. Roselyn’s conceit is a real strength of the film, and Lawrence drives it home with panache. Louis C.K. plays DiMaso’s befuddled mentor, and meetings between the two should be taken as lessons in deadpan.
American Hustle takes place in late ’70s New Jersey. It’s about con men, but devoid of any Oceans glamour and pumped full of the burger-vendor grime that defined the era. Depicting the 1970s can preoccupy directors telling a story set at that time: Tomas Alfredson claimed it was his mission to infuse the smell of damp tweed into Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, set in Edward Heath’s Britain.
Tinker Tailor was almost too sweaty, though; there were only so many times I could watch Gary Oldman discuss national security through steamed-up glasses whilst sipping murky whiskies. Russell vividly paints us the garish, post-Vietnam Garden State, full of melting snow and faulty electrical goods.
Director David O. Russell subverts this genre well because his cast depict the stress of being on both sides of the law so vividly. It’s a subversion of the ‘American hustle’ genre that makes American Hustle, the film’s title, seems so deviously self-conscious after viewing — a successful comedy. Imagining how complex and stressful conning congressmen must be is funny, particularly when watching a film billed as a glitzy look at Carter-era fraudstering.
A recent Guardian article claimed that Sean Connery’s James Bond drank something like ninety units a day in From Russia with Love, but Russell might claim that you’d need at least that to get through the business of taking on the KGB. American Hustle should be commended for taking a step back to contemplate the paranoia, despair and monumental highs of being a con artist. This makes the film not only an effective satire of Catch Me If You Can and the like, but really any film featuring unrealistically smooth protagonists. Smooth is one thing the characters ain’t in this film, and quite rightly so.
