Hustled by Russell

I really, really wanted to like American Hustle. It promised to be groovy, silly, smart, and sexy all at once-- but, it seems I've been hustled.

American Hustle is the latest film from director David O. Russell, whose Silver Linings Playbook made out quite well last year. I loved SLP-- it was the rare anti-romantic comedy that was actually, well, a romantic comedy. The cast had an easy task-- the characters were quirky and hopelessly flawed, an assortment of funny, honest, and unique men and women who were so profoundly of their world that you believed every line, trusted every shot, and rooted for their success. Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence helmed the film with intensity, humor, and a lot of profanity, and it became apparent that their characters' imperfections made Pat and Tiffany perfect for each other. I cared about Pat and Tiffany, their struggles, and the story that brought them together.

But, that's just the problem with American Hustle-- I didn't care about the story at all, and the characters' imperfections amounted to absolutely nothing. It is as if this film were more interested in creating caricatures rather than real characters. Now, I'll be the first to admit that Russell generally gets phenomenal performances from his actors. But, a great performance can only go so far-- the character itself must be compelling. Though the characters in American Hustle were interesting, I didn't care for them; consequently, I couldn't care about the story-- their journeys were meaningless, insignificant, and unimportant to me. As a result, Russell alienated me for 138 minutes, a running-time that crawled by at a snail's pace.

Simply because of the performances, I respect the film. But, did I enjoy the film? Hell no. Did I find it interesting? Nope. Would I recommend it? Not enthusiastically.

So, why is everyone raving about it? What it all comes down to is that I haven't drunk the David O. Russell Kool-Aid. Russell is the latest "it" director, a mantle strengthened by his reputation as an "actor's director" and his legion of loyal actors who want to work with him again and again. But all that glitters is not gold. I hope he will surprise me again, someday, with a film that has the sparkle, humor, and relevance of SLP. But until David O. Russell proves that SLP wasn't a fluke in his film canon, I'll continue to pass on the Kool-Aid like a sober kid in an overcrowded frat house filled with alcoholics drunk on their own self-importance.

American Hustle itself is an elaborate hustle, one whose disco soundtrack, vampy dresses, and over-the-top perms distract the audience from the terrible truth: that this film is only pretending to be something great, when it fact it's as fake and unsubstantial as Christian Bale's hair piece.