From feds to family to crooks and politicians, everyone has and angle – or three — in American Hustle, David O. Russell’s new film that offers a look at the post-Watergate schizophrenic culture of America. No more is this exemplified than in the opening scene that offers Irving Rosenfeld’s (Christian Bale in a role physically antithetical to The Machinist) daily hair-styling routine. The center of his scalp is as bald as a plucked chicken, but nothing that a meticulously crafted comb-over and a wealth of aerosol hairspray can’t hide. He teases, he twists, he glues, he presses, he arranges, all to sell himself as an art dealer.
This is only the first duplicity that we witness throughout American Hustle. And only the first of Irving’s. He’s also, possibly?, in love with Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams) but married to Rosalyn Rosenfeld (Jennifer Lawrence), a woman whose son Irving has adopted. In a role mighty similar to the one that won her an Academy Award for Silver Linings Playbook, Jennifer Lawrence is a bit manic and off-kilter. Throughout, the viewer is unsure if she’s mentally imbalanced or just a bored housewife seeking attention. In this much, she is her own duplicity.
But Sydney Prosser’s identity is the one that is constantly in flux, challenging both the audience and the character to decide which charade is her reality. A former stripper from the Midwest, Prosser’s newly donned English accent comes with a new identity, Edith, a woman with London banking ties. In this capacity, she and Irving are able to swindle folks looking to make a quick buck out of money.
And here, Russell continues his look at good and bad. Much like he did in Silver Linings Playbook when he explored the line between social normalization and crazy, here he looks at the socially sanctioned differences between right and wrong good and bad. Most obviously he does this my making two crooks his protagonists. It’s hard to root against Irving or Sydney cum Edith. Both are charming and they seem to only want to rip off crooks who haven’t seen legal activity in decades. But, in this Robin Hood-like trope, we are also forced to wonder where ultimate judgment comes from and why there is such a rash of corruption. Is it society’s abandoned faith from Vietnam, Watergate, and the Nixon resignation?
Or, are these just highly publicized symptoms of a fractured culture?
Russell, being the antagonist, is never clear on the answer, but the heavy handed way in which Detective Richie DiMaso is portrayed suggests that Russell’s thesis is that corruption starts from the top down. DiMaso (Bradley Cooper) is the officer who initially busts Irving and Edith, coercing them to be pawns in a scheme to bring down politicians looking for a hand out. And while the FBI castigates those looking to line their pockets with suitcases of money, DiMaso’s actions are purely selfish, acts to get his name linked to a headline that rivals Deepthroat’s information on the Watergate break ins.
As a performer, Cooper plays DiMaso solidly. As a character, DiMaso fluctuates from a desparate philanderer that lives with his mother to a crazed attempted rapist. In a way, these disparities feel a bit forced and a ploy to create an obvious villain. But for the most part, it works – and mostly because we don’t want to root against Irving, Edith, or even Roselyn.
After all, it’s much more fun to root for the bad guys when they operate under the guise of bilking those for whom we are envious.
