American Hustle

American Hustle opens with a pudgy Christian Bale, a far cry from his Batman physique, executing one of the worst comb-overs ever shown on screen, and also setting the tone for the entire movie. It’s kind of a funny scene. It’s a little gross. It ends up going on too long and becomes excruciating. Most of all, it makes it clear that the people in the picture aren’t the suave, charming, good-looking (at least not the men) hucksters of a typical caper film. Or even really likeable at all (this goes for all of them).

Who are these characters? There’s Irving Rosenfeld (Bale) and Sydney (Amy Adams), smalltime con artists and sometimes lovers. There’s FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper), who busts the two and offers immunity in exchange for help making more busts. In a supporting role is Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), a well-connected New Jersey mayor who becomes the target of a sting that keeps getting bigger and bigger (based on the real-life Abscam operation in the late 1970s). And there’s Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence), Irving’s volatile, spiteful wife who never ceases to be a thorn in his side.

If that sounds more like a description of the characters than the plot, there’s a reason for it. The film is not a full dramatization of Abscam (which would have been interesting), and admits upfront to altering or embellishing events. It’s also decidedly not a caper film, as it walks the audience through every step of its scheming, rather than giving us mere pieces to have fun pondering until the whole truth is revealed in the end (there’s a small twist, but it comes so late in the picture that it comes off more like a joke than a major plot point). There are elements of both genres, but the story and structure seem very secondary, for the filmmakers apparently decided the interactions between the characters would be more interesting.

Only one problem: these characters are awful. Not because they’re lowlifes, but because they’re underdeveloped, uncharismatic, and often just grating. Only Bale brings anything interesting to his role, evoking the sense, however lightly, that life as a con man isn’t glamorous, that he’s in it out of desperation more than ambition. Cooper, however, is a bully to both superiors and his criminal subordinates who’s hard to root for. Lawrence is a whiny, spoiled housewife stereotype, aggravating or intrusive (and still aggravating) in most of her scenes. And Adams, whose character we're told plays a big part in the scams, is nonetheless given little to do most of the time besides wearing cleavage-baring attire in every scene.

Director David O. Russell worked with all four in his last two films (Lawrence and Cooper in Silver Linings Playbook, Bale and Adams in The Fighter). But the movie doesn’t feel like it was just an excuse for them to reunite to hang out, like some projects made by frequent collaborators. The character interactions and dialogue seem natural, organic, and even real. Maybe that’s the problem: the characters are so much like real people that they’re not colorful or compelling enough to hold a movie. When their interplay isn’t uncomfortable or even painful to sit through, it’s just boring.

As this endlessly plays out onscreen, chances of actually understanding the particulars of the sting plot get slimmer as the scheme grows more complex. And on top of everything, the picture stretches its aim even further by attempting comedy. It works selectively (a recurring cameo by Louis C.K. is hysterical), but most often, the bits of humor aren’t enough to salvage some absolute duds of dialogue exchanges.

The movie almost manages to be a good time, in spite of itself. But there’s no denying that it’s a big mess of narrative, structure, and wasted talent and opportunities. A mess can still be enjoyable with good characters, but that’s a luxury this film doesn’t have.