Opening with the clever, perfectly fitting caveat, “Some of this actually happened,†David O. Russell’s “American Hustle†is a brilliantly told tale of corruption, love, loyalty, and constructed identities. Russell, rewriting a script developed by Eric Singer, takes off from the Abscam affair—the bizarre criminal investigation of the 1970s in which the FBI called on a con man named Mel Weinberg to help ensnare six congressmen and a senator.
But Russell was not interested in meticulous historical accuracy; after all, he was creating a movie about constant reinvention. So, the early scenes follow Irving, played by Christian Bale, a deceptively smart con artist that makes a living on low-level scams involving fraudulent loans and phony artwork.
Irving soon connects with Sydney Prosser, played by Amy Adams, over Duke Ellington, and she becomes the love of his life, as well as his grifting partner. What Sydney is soon aware of, is that Irving has a needy stay-at-home wife, Rosalyn, played by Jennifer Lawrence, who exudes sexuality and mental instability.
However, all of that petty, cliché drama fades into the background when Irving and Sydney are busted by FBI agent Richie DiMaso, who offers them immunity in exchange for their help in landing him bigger fish.
Those big fish begin as other con men, but as the plot unravels, Irving, Sydney, and DiMaso are introduced to world of corruption more intricately sleazy than they could ever have imagined.
What is so interesting about Russell’s elaborate endeavor is that all of the characters can barely hold their constructed identities together, the ones that they’ve formulated and reinvented in order to survive.
Irving can never seem to convince people that his intricately constructed comb-over is real, while Sydney decides whether or not to let go of her fake British accent and let DiMaso in. And then DiMaso displays near-psychotic behavior while defending his use of hair curlers and while trying to convince his boss that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
However, their crumbling identities only feed the character’s desire to indulge in the “me, me me†culture of the 1970s, and the characters develop a desperate grasp of materialism. And no one, except perhaps Irving, stops once to reflect on what they’re doing.
There are certain movies that are fun and entertaining, and that’s about the extent of what they offer. Then, there are those slightly more elusive art cinema pieces that are strictly directed toward esoteric intellectuals who like pondering human nature and existentialism.
However, there are those rare films that offer so many easy pleasures that people may forget that it is art, but it is. “American Hustle†is dark, funny, wild, thrilling, even sexy; but most importantly, “American Hustle†is truly a work of art.
