American Hustle

A retro farce with great costumes that nonetheless unfolds at a sluggish pace and is full of actors showing off unnecessarily. I consider American Hustle far from masterfully directed. On the contrary, at such a slow pace, it is striking that the ambitious plot disintegrates in the tangle of character motivations that got out of hand. But would you do any better if there was a scantily clad Amy Adams prancing around your set? The acting performances are fantastic, however. Christian Bale tries hard, but Jennifer Lawrence turns in the best performance here. Amy Adams is super-hot (let’s be honest – would you be able to restrain yourself in the bathroom scene?) and the icing on the cake is the unexpected Mr. “XY” from Miami in the best mafia role in recent memory. With his appearance, the pace picks up a little. The nomination for best film and director was probably secured by Bale’s necklace. (01/27/2014)

“Some of this actually happened.” The exaggerated opening title well indicates the strengths and weaknesses of Russell’s American Hustle, which isn’t rooted in any particular genre. No, we will not familiarise you with the procedural details of the central swindle. Who knows what it was really like back then? And yes, like what you are about to see, Hollywood is one big game that plays fast and loose with the truth. So, we will set up a mirror and other reflective surfaces in front of ourselves and from the opening scene (preparation for the performance) we will draw attention to the performative dimension of the con artist’s “craft”. Which is to say that we will not focus on facts or provide enough of them that would create tension and expectations, but only self-reflexive wordplay that belongs entirely to the actors. Due to the sidelining of the course of the operation in favour of the relationships between the characters, who deny and rediscover their own identities, there is nothing that would hold the narrative structure together and keep the viewer in suspense. We can understand the herky-jerky rhythm of the narrative as an attempt to adapt the form to a large number of narrators with different natures and goals (and acting styles, because nearly every actor is attuned to a different genre), though I personally see it as evidence of Russell’s indiscipline as a director, which is caused by putting too much trust in the actors. Similarly, the manneristic use of certain stylistic techniques (rapid dolly shots) and gratuitous incorporation of contemporary music testify to the fact that Russel is adept at his craft and knows how to shoot a “cool” scene, but his directing is non-conceptual. The changes of identities, genres, rhythm and narrators are fun at first and give the film a certain flair. Due to the aimless directing and meaningless plot, however, the excess of images and words, which basically say the same thing again and again (and say it much more straightforwardly than, for example, Preston Sturges in the timeless The Lady Eve, becomes off-putting much sooner than, for example, in The Wolf of Wall Street, which seems to be a much shorter film thanks to its more concentrated and coherent narrative. As is becoming customary in the case of Russell, the actors save the film from being completely rejected and quickly forgotten. Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, though entertaining, forgot to switch from the eccentric comedy mode employed in Silver Linings Playbook and the atrocious (s)exploitation of Amy Adams’s body needlessly flattens the Sydney character and detracts from her ambivalence, but at least Christian Bale hasn’t looked so bad and acted so well in a few years. 65% (01/21/2014)

I feel cheated. The film lured me in by assembling some of my favorite actors. I watched more than two hours of a boring attempt at Ocean's Eleven from the 70s. The intention of the filmmakers fell completely flat, I was bored. Plus, it was obvious from the start how the whole spectacle would turn out. I’m giving two stars for Christian Bale's comb-over and Bradley Cooper's hair curlers. (01/01/2017)

Funny, I never noticed that Amy Adams and Jennifer Lawrence have such amazingly sexy breasts. And I had no idea that it was their image that must have been the most intrusive to the academics when putting together the Oscar nominations. How else can you explain that this is supposed to be the best film in a year that also gave us the privilege of seeing such cinematic gems as Gravity, Captain Phillips and Prisoners? Perhaps it's stylish in its attempt to mix pop culture dialogue and arthouse retro gangster, perhaps it's superbly acted by a group of stars who parody themselves so nicely with incredible verve (except for Cooper – he plays his standard), and maybe I don't even regret waiting patiently for the expected hectic conclusion, but neither of the aforementioned pluses (not even the boobs) can elevate American Hustle to the level of a film worthy of such Oscar attention. And paradoxically, everything here is visibly focused on material awards – it’s not for nothing that they say that less is sometimes more. 65% (02/28/2014)

O. Russell annoys me immensely. His films are reminiscent of a showcase of clichés and conventions, and if all this worked well in Fighter, it changed from Silver Linings Playbook to empty glitz covered with an imitation of "something more". However, his mannerist preference for certain techniques and compositions is not even "nicely cheesy" and cool (exciting), but simply emptily self-serving. Completely in line with the never-ending "just enough so that you can't see much" show of Amy Adams's cleavage, which instead of excitement arouses, after a while, an inquisitive feeling about whether she is supposed to attract attention or distract the viewer. An absurdly rich selection of period hits, a showcase of idiotic hairstyles, dysfunctional parallel storylines and narrator voices, carried by Bale, who is already starting to forget that acting means more than periodically gaining and dropping 50 kilos. After The Wolf of Wall Street, this artificial attempt at an epic of deception and hypocrisy, folded into a would-be brazen and contemplative whole, feels even more unappealing. And the last Marty didn't get under my skin much. But at least I still have enough sense to recognize a hoax from the original. [50%] (01/22/2014)