David O. Russell Once Again Spins Convention Into Originality with “American Hustle”

American Hustle is actually a really funny film.

American Hustle is typical David O. Russell.

It is a film with little narrative surprises—one that does all of the predictable things one might expect from its genre, and yet, somehow it has emerged as one of the year’s best films just as his Silver Linings Playbook and The Fighter did in recent years.

The reason is simple. As with those films, Russell is playing connect the dots but refusing to draw straight lines. He’s working within the confines of convention, and yet his script is so zippy and filled with grace notes that there’s a real specificity to what he’s doing. It’s rare that Russell tries to wow with some story innovation; instead, he concentrates on character, putting effort not on this or that plot mechanic but on a palpable sense of depth, heart and humanity.

Loosely based on the ABSCAM scandal of the late 1970s, American Hustle focuses on Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale) and Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams), a pair of lovers/con artists who are forced by an FBI agent named Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper) into an elaborate sting operation to entrap corrupt politicians, including Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), the mayor of Camden, New Jersey. A variety of different issues arise to complicate the job and the central romance, including the involvement of Rosenfeld’s manic-depressive wife (Jennifer Lawrence), his growing friendship with Polito, and the desperate ambition of DiMaso, which ultimately puts the leads in the crosshairs of some dangerous mafia members.

The plot could make for a serious drama, but Russell keeps the tone light and there are several big laughs, many of which are courtesy of the deadpan genius of Louis C.K. as DiMaso’s boss at the FBI. Ocean’s 11 and The Sting are good comparison points, and Russell intentionally echoes classic Scorsese pictures like Goodfellas. However, the film I was most reminded of was Argo, another ’70s set capper film about a hard-to-believe, government-funded operation. However, whereas last year's Best Picture winner had a major problem fleshing out its characters (as outlined in my review), American Hustle, like all Russell films, excels at turning almost every pivotal character into a living, breathing person.

Oscars for costume design and makeup and hair-styling are
most likely in the bag.

It helps that Russell has a deep bench of fantastic actors, a great deal of whom he cultivated on his last two films. Bale and Adams top the excellent work they did in The Fighter, presenting the type of understanding partnership most would envy. When running a successful con, Rosenfeld’s motto is to do it from the feet up, and that expression might as well be used to describe the multilayered work they do here. Both actors deserve to be classified as two of the best of their generation, and the range they show in this film is another testament to that fact.

After reaching career heights with Silver Linings Playbook, Cooper and Lawrence are once again tasked with playing frantic and unstable characters, but this time they get to be unlikeable so no punches are pulled. Meanwhile, Renner emerges as the stealth weapon of the film, grounding the whole thing with his portrayal of a decent man undone by his overzealous desire to serve his constituents. His role is the least showy of the bunch, but, especially when considering how starkly in contrasts with his two Oscar-nominated performances, it’s hard to ignore.

American Hustle has been positioned as a year-end awards player, but it’s gotten some kickback as too lightweight for the Academy. It’s not a perfect film -- the script confusingly glosses over the finer details of most of the cons, many of which don’t make complete sense upon reflection -- but I’d argue against the notion that this is just some entertaining piece of fluff.

It’s a meditation on dissatisfaction, insecurity, desperation, reinvention, and the lengths people will go to improve their lot in life. It’s a hubristic tragedy, a crackerjack capper and a complicated love story all rolled into one. It’s one of the best films of the year. A

Half-Baked 'Man of Steel' is Both Awesome and Annoying

If half the battle is not looking silly in the suit, Henry Cavill
was pretty set from the get go.

Thus far, Man of Steel has sharply divided audiences. It currently rates rotten on Rotten Tomatoes, and yet it garnered an A- CinemaScore. Some, like HitFix’s Drew McWeeny, have passionately argued its merits, while others like Ryan Silberstein, our friend over at Filmhash, have criticized the film for having a lack of substance.

That diversity of opinion seems appropriate to me, since I somehow found the film to be simultaneously infuriating and delightful. The reason for that is simple – nearly every major story impulse by the creative team (including director Zack Snyder, producer Christopher Nolan, and screenwriter David Goyer) comes across as a bold and laudable choice that somehow got mucked up in the execution. 

Take, for instance, the film’s main thematic drive, which basically concerns two things – the ability to choose your destiny and the question of what the world will make of Kal-El/Clark Kent/Superman (Henry Cavill) once he is revealed. 

On Krypton, where citizens are engineered for very specific purposes, Kal-El’s father Jor-El (Russell Crowe) predicts his son will choose his own destiny and that the people of Earth will embrace him as a guiding god and symbol of hope. On Earth, adoptive father Jonathan Kent (Kevin Costner) also believes Clark will choose what type of man he will become and that, whatever that decision is, it will change the world. However, unlike Jor-El, he is afraid about how the world will respond to a super-powered alien being.

So I get that Lois Lane is assisting the army and all, but why do 

they give her a jumpsuit?

Much of this framework is laid very carefully, but then laziness sets in and the story begins to lose its grip. A devastating tragedy results from Jonathan Kent’s insistence that Clark keep his powers hidden, and Costner plays the hell out of it, but the whole situation leading up to that moment is such inorganic horseshit, that it undercuts the importance of what should be a pivotal moment for our hero. 

Ultimately, Clark is forced to out himself to the public because of the ultimatum proposed by chief villain General Zod (Michal Shannon), a Kryptonian he knows to have killed his birth father, which sort of defangs the whole choice thing. To be fair, he does get to choose how he responds, opting for the Jesus-like choice to put his faith in human kind, and the captive sequence that follows is one of the best (and most charming) parts of the movie.

Unfortunately, the film then quickly becomes an endless barrage of action, and it never truly explores the question of if this super-powered god will be accepted by Earth’s inhabitants, which is odd given just how much time is spent setting it up. Having seen the finished product, it seems the movie may have been better served by further leaning into the whole Christ analogy it pushes. I’m not saying this film needed its own version of the crucifixion and resurrection, but simply a little time showing humanity’s response to Superman and what to do with/about him. Sacrificing ten minutes of action to do so would’ve made for a better movie.

Having said that, the action is the most noteworthy thing about the picture, and what’s on display here is some of the best spectacle you’re likely to see on film. The sheer scale is mindboggling and the ambition is commendable. Man of Steel opens with a visually imaginative (and surprisingly substantive) sequence in Krypton and it ends with a 40-minute throw-down action sequence that is awe-inspiring in its depiction of collateral damage, which a consulting firm recently estimated would result in $700 billion in physical damages, one million injured victims and over 100,000 deaths.

There's a good drinking game to be made based around
product placement in this movie.

The film has been criticized for featuring a Superman that allows such destruction, but, while I thought the action was a bit overlong, I found it to be a refreshingly “realistic” depiction of how a fight between super aliens would play out. That said, the film definitely would’ve worked better if the filmmakers had shown Superman’s sense of horror at what was happening around him. If they had, the climactic moment in the train station would’ve carried a lot more heft. Instead it’s almost a joke.*

*For those counting, that makes two extremely important and emotional moments for the lead character that are totally undermined by the immediate lead up to them.

Then, of course, there’s the way the film has revised the whole approach to Lois Lane. Here, it’s actually believable that Lois (Amy Adams) is a crack investigative journalist, because she’s not depicted as a dummy who doesn’t realize she’s working side-by-side a fellow reporter who looks just like the superhero she spends so much time with. Instead she’s a smart, driven reporter who, after getting her life saved by a super-powered mystery man, begins to methodically trace his tracks and discover the truth.

Once she does, Lois gets three solid scenes with Clark –one where he explains why he doesn’t want her to expose him to the world, one where she interviews him as army officials watch on, and one where she comforts him in a moment of total anguish after the train station climax. They’re all strong moments, but because of how much little interaction they have besides that, the romance angle that gets grafted onto the story seems a giant miscalculation. The film does a good job of showing how she could fall for him, but not vice versa, and so the kiss moment rings false. More restraint would’ve been wise, as the three aforementioned scenes would’ve made strong foundation pieces for romance exploration in a sequel where she (and we) will assumedly learn more about the Clark Kent side of Kal-El.

The film offers what are arguably definitive takes on
Superman, Lois Lane and Jor-El. Zod? Not so much.

There are so many more pluses and minuses in this film that I could go on and on. I understand it’s something necessary with a big film like this, but the record-breaking product placement was a little much for my taste. However, one thing I’ll give the filmmakers – they got the casting right. Cavill brings a physicality to Superman that no other actor has before, while also offering a tremendous amount of confidence and benevolent warmth. It’s a star-making performance, and, although he’s been around for a while, after his work here, I expect a lot of doors will open for him.

Adams, Crowe, Costner, and Christopher Meloni (as a Detective Stabler-like army guy) all provide great work, with Costner being best in show. In fact, given the amount of time spent exploring the motivations of Crowe’s Jor-El, more time with Costner’s Jonathan probably would’ve been welcome for balance sake.  Meanwhile, Zod has a refreshingly complex and relatable motivation for what he’s doing, and they’ve cast a great actor in the role, but the whole thing is brought down a peg by some convoluted business concerning a genetic codex and Shannon’s decision to dial everything up to 11. Like Crowe, Shannon is saddled with a lot of expository dialogue, but unfortunately, he doesn’t come across nearly as well.

Overall, I’m more positive on the film than negative, but I feel like I can’t really judge the thing until the inevitable sequel arrives. If that sequel builds on what’s here and further explorers the notions of how Earth is responding to this guy, the film may seem better in hindsight. But right now Man of Steel seems a collection of good ideas and standout moments enveloped in a half-baked film. B

Polarizing "The Master" Doesn't Quite Connect

Following the most intense, emotionally cathartic scene in
the film,the two stars of this "love story" share a cigarette.
Insert comparison to sex here.

Half-way through Paul Thomas Anderson’s polarizing The Master, someone tells Freddie Quell (a transformative Joaquin Phoenix), our gnarled, disturbed and sex-obsessed protagonist, "He's making all this up as he goes along. You don't see that?"

This accusation is directed at Lancaster Dodd (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), the leader of The Cause, a fanatical cult that is fighting a trillion-year-old battle to purify and free the soul by submitting members to a process that addresses trauma from past lives. It suggests that this man has no answers, no specific insight. But, having seen the film and read just a few of the vast array of interpretations, it's hard for me not to infer an unintended meta commentary.

Here we have a film focused on a man looking for answers in post WWII America, willing to suffer extremes to find salvation. And so this man stumbles upon a charmingly playful and seemingly wise "Master" whose Cause many damaged souls have fully adopted, assumedly because they are captivated by his salesmanship and because they so desperately want to believe. All this, despite the fact that the Master himself is increasingly losing conviction in his own rhetoric, as evidenced by his being drawn to a primal silly animal and a late-in-the-game modification that suggests members "imagine" not "remember" prenatal past during processing sessions.

I would make the case those words of critique can be levied at the film itself. Like Dodd, the film is undeniably compelling as it suggests great truths can be found via submission to its all encompassing greatness. And it too seems to lose conviction as it embraces malleability in a catch-all attempt to maintain some sort of mythic status, while proving to be as hopelessly inquisitive as its titular character.

Extending the comparison, the film also has a number of ardent followers who claim to see deeper meanings beyond the showy surface. They’ll claim those who don’t see the genius aren’t paying close enough attention and argue for multiple viewings that would, I can only assume, beat enlightenment into someone the same way repeatedly walking from a window to a wall might.

Amy Adams gives a frightening and thought-
provoking performance as Peggy Dodd, wife 
and master of Master.

If the film is Dodd, viewers like me are like Freddy Quell. I too attempted to give myself over to uncover a deeper meaning. As a die-hard Anderson fan I wanted to see it, and I can’t deny I was enthralled by the style and the craft. But, in the end, I just couldn't buy into it.

Nevertheless, I can’t quite shake the film, and though I won’t submit, like Freddy, I am still drawn to it. I am in awe of the acting prowess on display and was left amazed at some of the shot compositions and long takes Anderson nestled into the film. I loved how Johnny Greenwood managed to build on his work in There Will Be Blood, offering up an alarming, percussive score that intrudes and unnerves in even the most mundane scenes.

And this thing has a number of indelible sequences, most obviously the don’t-blink examination between Dodd and Freddy, but also a plethora of ambiguous ones that have inspired so much thoughtful analysis from fans (both of Hoffman’s singing scenes, anything with Amy Adams as Dodd’s wife, and the sex scene at the end, to name a few). I like that and see value in it, but ultimately the film is entirely impressionistic, with no more definitive meaning than the Rorsarch inkblots Freddie keeps sexualizing.

If you squint and grit your teeth, you can see all sorts of deeper meanings in The Master. You can project thoughts of repressed homosexuality on the part of Dodd and suggest it’s all really a wonderfully complex super ego/id love story. And that’s all well and good, and I’m certainly intrigued to consider such interpretations, but to me those things aren’t so much remembered as they are imagined. A key difference, I think. B