'American Hustle' Review: That’s entertainment, guffaws guaranteed

Cast: Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence
Director: David O Russell
Rating: Four stars

It’s a winner. And the justly spectacular thing about David O Russell’s 'American Hustle' are its performances. In fact, the fundamental point about every actor’s work in this intelligently scripted crime thriller is that no one ever blunts their parts by striving to overshadow the other. Here then is ensemble acting of the highest order: even the sidebar poker-faced Mexican impersonating an Abu Dhabi sheikh, compels you to strike a chord with him instantly.

Russell, the co-writer and director whose track record includes 'Silver Linings Playbook', is in terrific form, quite clearly inspired by the Abscam scandal of the late 1970s, in which heavy-duty politicians and a mayor, were caught with their morals down over the make-over of Atlantic City into a casino haven. This business about corruption, signified here with briefcasesful of millions of dollars, may be old hat. Sure it’s been flogged to death but it’s back, polished and pepped up, to seem brand-new.

In fact, with a consistently witty script, cool technical flourishes and a music score – which replays the disco-era muzak of Donna Summer, the ballads of Tom Jones and Elton John, and Duke Ellington’s jazz riffs -- the genre of crime thrillers boogies up to the next level. Comparisons in mise en scene may be drawn to 'Usual Suspects', the 'Ocean’s Eleven' series and to Martin Scorsese’s mafiosi oeuvre – Robert De Niro even makes an unbilled appearance as a Little Italy gangsta -- but not to fret for a split second. 'American Hustle' is one of a kind, an original take in which the lead players, believe you this, are suffering through bad hair days. Guffaws guaranteed.

Over to Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale), puffy and paunchy, rearranging his hair piece and painting his remnant strands with black dye. A con artist, he owns a laundry, but has been amassing a fortune by hawking forged paintings and cheating a gamut of chit-fund-like investors. At home, his wife (Jennifer Lawrence) swirling and twirling her blonde ringlets, has become a nag, nearly burning their home down, with a new-fangled micro-oven. This woman, described as a ‘Picasso of passive aggressive karate’ is as ditzy as Carole Lombard, or actually any moll from Hollywood’s screwball comedies. Trouble is Irving is as bored with her, as he is with petty larceny. Our bewigged crook’s dreaming bigger now.

And he’s incited towards get-rich-quicker-plans by one of those cleavage-flaunting femme fatales (Amy Adams), hiding her past as a stripper under the new identity of a woman who’s as British as the Big Ben. Her hair’s manageable, but the kooky cop (Bradley Cooper) on the trail of the chiselling duo, is struggling with his hair curlers. Absolutely zany, the cop traps the crooked couple, blackmailing them to carry out a sting operation which will expose those aforecited politicians and mayor.

By the way, the mayor (Jeremy Renner), is styled with an Elvis Presley pompadour. That’s how hair-raising the plot is, cut so swiftly that you feel you’re on a speed trip. No scene lasts for more than two or three minutes, and that usually cumbresome device of a voice-over is used inventively – instead of a single v-o, all the principal players yak their hearts out over the soundtrack. Brilliant!

There’s much to be relished, be it a strobe-lit Travoltaish outing to a disco, the cutting back and forth to keep you guessing about the underhanded deals with the sheikh, the champagne swilling evenings and Blondie Wife letting her ringlets down with an illicit lover. Come to think of it, there’s an overload: too much-happening-too-fast, accounting for the film’s protracted running time of two hours-eight minutes. The only squabble you have, then, is the length. At the film’s mid-point, the shenanigans do tend to become repetitive.

Never mind. Savour the sophisticated cinematic style and performances throughout. As a senior cop, trying to complete a running gag and contorting a bruised face, Louis C K is first-rate. Christian Bale and Amy Adams are flawless, but Jennifer Lawrence is the proverbial scene-stealer. She rocks, at the age of 23, asserting that she’s one helluva package of talent.

And you know what? An 'American Hustle 2' is more than likely. And for once a sequel would more than welcome. Do it again, guys.