American Hustle: A Rebuttal

It’s rare that I write a take down review of a film I’m not much enamored with. I have always told myself that I hardly have enough time to write about all the films that I love, let alone find the time to write about films I dislike. Occasionally I get inspired however to write a contrarian view, especially when the film in question seems to be garnering heaps of praise. David O. Russell’s latest film, American Hustle seems to be building a good deal of momentum as the awards season kicks into gear. It has received a 90% rating at Metacritic and 94% at Rottentomatoes, certainly highly regarded from nearly the entire critical establishment. Watching the film first hand though, is something of a let-down. What is set up as a promising farcical piece of comedy led by an outstanding cast turns out to be cinematically sloppy, and is brought down by poorly executed pacing, such that one feels nearly every one of the 129 minutes.  Many people that I love and respect greatly, have an admiration for this film. I want to say that in no way whatsoever, should anyone who likes this film, view my thoughts as any sort of condemnation of them personally. I aim simply to express my thoughts on this film and to present very detailed analysis for why I think the film fails to reach its potential and thus remains underwhelming.

As most are aware, the film is about the inner workings of the Abscam Con in 1978, set in New Jersey and regarding the lives of a few con artists and related characters, among them those in the FBI and the mayor of Camden NJ. I’m not even going to get into the fact that the film's plot and execution plays as poor-man’s Scorsese. This angle to me, is the weakest argument against a film loaded with numerous issues. What is probably an easier complaint to argue is the blatant fact that the film lacks any particular stylistic cue of its own, despite the fact that numerous critics and bloggers have celebrated the “style” of American Hustle. The St. Louis Dispatch says, "As much as anything, the wildly entertaining ’70s flashback American Hustle is a triumph of style." The Sun-Times says, "American Hustle is the best time I’ve had at the movies all year, a movie so perfectly executed, such wall-to-wall fun, so filled with the joy of expert filmmaking on every level I can’t imagine anyone who loves movies not loving THIS movie." I beg someone, literally get down on my knees and beg someone to explain to me what this particular “style” is? I saw nothing beyond the usual use 70’s tunes and costumes. Don’t we expect this? It’s not really a style so much as it is a price of market entry. One can’t possibly make a 70’s film without the 70’s look. If we’re talking about camera-work, there’s nothing distinctive there either. There are no long takes, or bravado camera movements to be found in the entire film. It is filmed in the exact same ensemble style that his previous films, Silver Linings Playbook and The Fighter were made in. I’m simply finding no evidence in this film of a stylistic element that is worthy of mention. I hope someone will explain to me what this brilliant style is that I’m missing. It has none of the drive and propulsion and sense of real stakes that Scorsese infuses into his works. Russell does not do himself any favors by filming in a style of another director, and then doing a weaker, less propulsive version of it.

This brings me to probably what is most problematic for me, and that is the pacing. In the first hour of the film, we spend most of our time mired in exposition, as the story our two con artists played by Christian Bale and Amy Adams is examined in totality (let’s take it from the top). I mean the story starts in the middle, and then bounces completely back to the beginning, with the point of view shifting between the two of them for roughly an entire hour. This wouldn’t be such an issue, if the film continued to examine their relationship and story-thread, but the film then spends an entire second half on a series of con-games, as the list of characters and storythreads balloons beyond the film's capacity for functionality. Jennifer Lawrence appears in exactly one scene in the first half, and then dominates key screen time in the second hour. It’s almost a reverse for Adams, who dominates the first half, and nearly disappears from the screen in the second half as attention is shifted to Lawrence. This jarring and misguided editing element proves an issue as the film continues to introduce new characters only to have them vanish, for instance the characters related to Bradley Cooper’s FBI agent, like his mother and fiancé who appear and disappear just as quickly. Or how about the cameo by Robert DeNiro, who appears in exactly one scene, a scene which builds nicely and then fizzles out without any real pizazz, wasting his presence. He never shows up again. How about Jeremy Renner? He continues to gain in screen time throughout the middle portion, and then disappears toward the end, despite the fact that the film wants us to feel sorry for his Mayor of Camden, New Jersey. All of these characters simply begin to make the film feel long, and screen time is devoted to them without intention of creating proper character arcs. All of these characters strain the focus and spread the ice very thin. As for the acting, it’s hit and miss. Christian Bale dives in completely for a role and film that is not exactly worth the effort. He is actually more deserving of better material considering his wholehearted acting. Bradley Cooper, who had begun to gain respect for his acting in Silver Linings Playbook and The Place Beyond the Pines, drops the ball here, returning to his casual, smirking jack-ass. Amy Adams does an admirable job in a role with no real pay-off or story arc as her character is given short shrift toward the end of the film. 

Perhaps the one most successful, despite what some will have you believe, is Jennifer Lawrence, who is perhaps the single most important element of the film. Lawrence plays Bale’s naïve and emotionally fraught Jersey Girl wife and mother of his adopted child. If the con-artists are the wizard, then Lawrence provides a look behind the curtain. What she represents among all the conning and goings on, is the exposing of the con-artists as delusional, and self-absorbed. When she’s onscreen, everyone around her is paranoid she will give away the scam, as if she’s some uncontrollable wrecking ball. Watching those around her attempt to control her is hilarious. In fact, she’s so naïve and in disbelief of what’s going on, she is able to emphasize the accidental “talent” of our con-artists, who are nothing but insecure losers who continue to lie to themselves. Lawrence is the one character who exposes the fraud through her own misguided sense of entitlement as if she's part of the game. The single most successful scene in the film, and probably the funniest, is the one where Bale confronts her in the bedroom over her accidental confession to the mob that she believes her husband is doing illegal acts. She is able to turn the scene around at the end such that her own ignorance is seen as a sort of grandiose turn of luck. If only more scenes utilized the balancing act that all those around her must do to keep her at bay. Russell fails to recognize the potential of the conflict though as he under-utilizes her in the entire first half. Frankly, the three best scenes in the film involve her. The one I just mentioned, the scene where she and Adams confront each other in the bathroom ending with a ludicrous kiss on the lips, and the one where she goes on about her fingernail polish at dinner. She represents a central conflict in the film, one potentially loaded with comedic opportunity, and yet Russell continues to focus on the churnings and the con-games as if they’re well written and intricate enough for us to care about these people, which actually gives Bale, Adams, and Cooper’s characters far too much credit, and allows for the film to present their pathetic stories as something worth following in and of itself. I’m sorry. I find all the conning more funny and pathetic than anything, yet Russell under-delivers the central elements of the comedic potential in favor a kitchen sink approach where he wants us to laugh and to care at the same time.

One of the biggest trends within the critical community the last few years especially, is heaping praise and year end awards upon films that are so utterly average. In 2011, it was The Artist. Last year it was Argo, and this year it is already American Hustle. What these films have in common is a complacent type of filmmaking. These films are low-hanging, cinematic fruit that are primarily aimed at the November-January cineaste and the Oscar-ites. You know the type. That guy who spends a few months out of the year catching up on a few of the “important” films so that when Academy Awards come around he can play Oscar bingo (“Look Ma, I just checked four nominees off my list with one film!”). In reality, this same guy spends the rest of the year watching super hero movies and horror flicks. Perhaps the biggest con of all, is that Russell has somehow convinced the critical masses that he’s made a masterpiece.  Last year, there was a genuine build of word of mouth over his rather sweet and romantic character study of two flawed individuals who need each other in Silver Linings Playbook. That film never aspired toward greatness, but was content with a rather focused and poignant examination of people. Those that bashed the film for it’s somehow inappropriate treatment of mental illness were missing the fact that there’s something called artistic license. What happened after that though, was that the film built buzz so that come nomination time, it hauled in several nominations, somewhat unheard of for a romantic comedy, a genre that is much maligned these days. That film I labeled as Russell’s best film to date, and one of my 10 favorites of the 2012, but certainly nowhere near best film of the year. Russell however, is wildly erratic. I liked the funny I Heart Huckabees, but loathed The Fighter’s simple-mindedness. I loved Silver Linings Playbook, but in my mind he’s overstepped himself with American Hustle.

Perhaps the most egregious and annoying element above the flawed pacing, is another example of how Russell wants to have his cake and eat it too, which is the final con in the film, whereby Adams and Bale trick Cooper and all his FBI folks into thinking they’ve finally apprehended the crooks and brought down the big guys. What’s amazing is how the veneer of the surprise ending that Russell uses disguises the fact that his cinematic approach throughout the entire film had been one of relative transparency, meaning up until the ending he had deliberately showed us the machinations and backgrounds of the cons for the entire film, except when it’s convenient for him to conceal the elements of a con that will provide the audience with a cheaply earned “surprise ending”, giving the audience a signpost that lets them know they’ve seen a good movie. Russell’s film wouldn’t need to rely on this thinly veiled inconsistent piece of cinematic hubris if his film was better written. But because he’d spread his characters and interests too thin all throughout, the ending is trite. My hope is that the critical masses will correct their errors and begin praising more worthy films, like McQueen's masterful 12 Years a Slave and Linklater's Before Midnight, two films that are challenging and progressive.