Movie Review: "American Hustle" (David O. Russell, 2013)

DO THE HUSTLE: WHY RUSSELL’S LATEST TRIUMPHS

by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Alessandro Nivola and Bradley Cooper in "American Hustle"

 

According to the great critic Manohla Dargis, studios always save their finest for Oscar season.  An exaggeration?  Not necessarily, especially when you consider that the tail end of 2013 produced both the clean grace of “Inside Llewyn Davis” and the glorious gluttony of “The Wolf of Wall Street.”  And while those movies may not have connected with everyone, there’s no denying that their witty eloquence and seriousness of purpose makes them well worth the watching.

But for some, the same isn’t true of “American Hustle,” David O. Russell’s sly romp of ‘70s-era skullduggery; indeed, a few reviewers have even accused the film of being coolly unemotional.   But I confess that I have a hard time understanding that perspective.  Yes, the film is rife with Mr. Russell’s dry humor, but beneath it is something else—the somber yearnings of the film’s protagonist, Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale).

            So what does Irving want?  In part, to make money—as a successful con man, he funds his lifestyle via both dry cleaning and profitable scams.  But more than anything, he cares about his partner in crime, Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams), who he understandably prefers to his monstrous wife Rosalind (Jennifer Lawrence). 

Unfortunately, what Irving doesn’t realize is that another player is about to snap the blocks of his existence out of place—the delusional FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper).  And though Richie is one of the only characters in the film on the right side of the law, we quickly realize that if his inability to control his wrath doesn’t kill our two protagonists, his scheme to entangle them in a crusade against political corruption just might. 

            Needless to say, the stakes of Irving and Sydney’s trials and tribulations are high.  Yet as I watched them begin to rise, I was not certain that “American Hustle” had truly grabbed me.  Oh sure, I could tell that the film was elegantly assembled, but Irving and Sydney’s voiceovers recounting how they met struck me as too slick to be testimonials of genuine love.  Plus, the truth of Sydney’s motives seemed bizarrely allusive.  Who was she really helping?  Irving or Richie?  Often, the film seemed strangely content to leave that question unanswered, thereby inviting the audience to accept that they’d never quite grasp the story’s croissant-like intricacies.   

            And yet somehow, the giddy madness of “American Hustle” produces genuine feeling, especially when Irving becomes conflicted about conning Richie’s nemesis, New Jersey politician Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner).  Carmine, we learn, is involved with the Mafia, and Richie is determined to catch him in the act.  But the tragedy of it all is that Carmine is actually is a good person and only wants the mob’s money so he can use it to help others.  Thus, Irving is left with a conundrum—how can he save himself and Sydney from Richie while also protecting his new friend?         

            Suffice to say, this is a troubling dilemma.  And yet the prevailing mood of “American Hustle” is one of joy.  Because even though there are moments when Irving looks so sad and saggy that he might dissolve into himself, the film spins as nimbly as Linus Sandgren’s rich camerawork, mixing sincerity and absurdity into a gleefully touching cocktail.  And in the end, what Mr. Russell seems to be saying through each scene is that even though it’s a mad, mad world, it’s sweet, and it’s ours.