David O. Russell’s American Hustle is the story of people trying to survive at a time of economic and social malaise—after a period of economic crisis (Oil Crisis), an unpopular war (Vietnam), government scandals, with youthful idealism and activism on the decline and the government in deficit—of the conflict between belief in the American Dream and cynicism toward American institutions. The setting may be the late 1970s, but the movie, though it is really more entertaining than profound, couldn’t have come at a better time.
Christian Bale, Amy Adams, and Bradley Cooper in American Hustle
Christian Bale and Amy Adams are Irving and Sydney, con artists who run an embezzlement scam by pretending to be art dealers and investors with “London banking connections” through Sydney’s British aristocrat Edith Greensly persona. They are fairly successful until they are caught and pressured into service by ambitious FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper) to arrest other con artists. Their ploy to seek out potential phony investors eventually grows into Operation Abscam, a sting operation against Mayor Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner) members of the U.S. Congress, and the mafia.
A recurring theme throughout is survival through struggle and subterfuge, with the hopes of building a better life and future. Beginning the story in media res with the operation already underway, Russell wastes no time in establishing the tension in the trio, as Richie and Irving not only battle over methods but also for the affections of Sydney. Yet minutes later, like a frazzled candidate about to walk into a job interview, they must present themselves as amiable business associates as they meet the mayor for the first time to guarantee the operation’s success.
As the movie delves into the origins of Sydney and Irving’s association, it is revealed that Sydney was a stripper who moved to New York to gain a fresh start and works as a clerk at Cosmopolitan magazine. Irving was the son of a small business owner who fell on hard times, and in order to help his father’s ailing business, a glass shop, he went around town smashing windows to create demand. Over time he came to run a dry cleaning business while dealing in forged art on the side. They become lovers and eventually partners in crime after meeting at a party, all the while he struggles to maintain his marriage with his wife Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence) and an image of legitimacy.
Rosalyn is a skilled con artist in her own right. Her outward appearance is classy and the life of the party. Domestically, she is jealous, manipulative, and highly unstable, and Irving appeases her because he knows that she would take away her son, his beloved stepson, if they became divorced. Though he wants to keep her out of his business, she unknowingly forces her way into Operation Abscam by through a convoluted series of events making a good first impression on the Polito family and becomes invited to subsequent social events while trying to get closer to the elites.
The film maintains that the world is one of “gray” morality, and as much as it’s a cliché to say, it is portrayed not necessarily in depth but nevertheless convincingly. Operation Abscam begins by targeting Mayor Polito, a newly elected mayor who helped to legalize gambling and is seeking funds to renovate a building for the casino, in order to lead to get to bigger targets. Yet the charismatic mayor, despite charges of corruption, seems like an honest family man genuinely interested in reaching out to his community and helping the citizens as a public servant. That he seems willing to bend the rules and accept and give out bribes is one thing; that he genuinely wants to bring investment, jobs, and development to a poverty-stricken area is another. Perhaps he is indeed mostly altruistic, and it’s only the legalism of the FBI and the cynicism of the public, and of the audience by proxy, that is skeptical of him. Indeed, maybe his lack of political savvy is why he is so easily led into the trap, and why Irving has a crisis of conscious arising not just from the friendship that they share, but out of the belief that the mayor is a mostly good man who can build up the community.
By contrast, the law-upholding Richie becomes increasingly erratic and skirts the line legality to entrap and bring down corrupt officials. Even though he is engaged, he pursues an affair with “Edith” (Sydney manages to keep him ignorant of her real identity). Though he does not recognize it (or he does and simply does not care), he becomes corrupted as his ambition to advance his career combines with a desire to raise his social status.
Having established the setting and major players, Russell creates more of a character-based drama than a crime thriller. These individuals rub against one another, and battles of wits play out as conflicting interests clash, even as some ostensibly work with one another, as if in an elaborate game of Diplomacy.
The last movie I saw before American Hustle was Kill Your Darlings, another period piece that dealt with Allen Ginsberg’s year as a freshman student at Columbia and his friendship with Lucien Carr, William S. Burroughs, and Jack Kerouac that gave birth to the Beat literary movement. The characters’ energy and emotions felt genuine there, but the aesthetics were a bit ponderous. I know it was supposed to be partially a crime drama and all, but was almost a bit too gray and grimy. The visual aesthetics in American Hustle may be exaggerated, but the exaggerations in costumes, sets, and hairstyle bring the period to life; though not everyone might agree, I felt that they complemented the film without being distracting.
Although the subject matter is serious, the film possesses tremendous energy and sense of fun. There’s plenty of witty banter, lavish colors, and retro aesthetics that add authenticity to the setting, all accompanied by period-appropriate soundtrack. The characters and scenarios are outlandish, and unlike Ben Affleck did with last year’s Argo, which includes a ridiculous airport chase at the end, Russell makes no pretenses that it’s a factual account, beginning the film with, “Some of this actually happened.” I also enjoyed the cameo by Robert DeNiro (who really should just work with David O. Russell from now on) in a moment that recalls his earlier works. An anecdote that Richie’s hapless superior Stoddard Thorsen (Louis C.K.) keeps trying to tell but is interrupted every time by the eager agent also provides a running gag throughout the story.
American Hustle balances a multitude of characters and storylines, and between cynicism and hopeful sincerity. The worst thing I can say about is that it can be too frenetic. Russell juggles the many characters and storylines relatively well, and I don’t think I ever felt that the transition from one scene to another is awkward, but it does come at the expense of some character and thematic development, leading to a few quick, easy resolutions. Whether motivations and feelings are genuine are at times underexplored, or perhaps they are intentionally left opaque to reflect the characters’ moral ambiguity and the way they obscure facts for a living. The film is cynical toward institutions—legal ones in particular—and existing structures. It depicts the struggles of individuals and community that drive them toward underhanded methods, of the difficulties in being decent men in an indecent time. Nevertheless, each character expresses hope about the possibility of achieving a better life for oneself, and of building a better family and community. 30-some years after Abscam, David O. Russell has made a witty, clever, character-driven drama that captures the aspirations and anxieties of a bygone period and of ours.
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