Director David O.
Russell (“Silver Linings Playbook”) opens his great 1970s-set conman comedy/drama
“American Hustle” with the tagline, “Some of this actually happened,” which
means we’re in for a blast of hellacious fun. Screw the facts. Entertain us. We
open on a fat, slouching Christian Bale as he plasters a comb-over job atop his
head until –- in his eyes -- he’s the suave lady-killer of his youth. It’s a
laugh riot, a self-con from a sad sack unaware he’s done. Bale is Irving
Rosenfeld, a NYC loan shark suffocating inside a mafia-heavy squeeze alongside his
con-artist partner/mistress (Amy Adams), his metal-in-the-microwave wife
(Jennifer Lawrence), a loon FBI agent (Bradley Cooper) with a bad perm, and a
Jersey mayor (Jeremy Renner) who’s far too trusting and nice. That’s the gist.
“Hustle” is too much a blast to spill more. Channeling early Scorsese with a wink-wink gleam, Russell nails the Me Decade with its big clothes, jewelry,
and cars, with everyone wanting the gold ring promised to them by TV,
and constantly checking their hair, even after a beat down. The acting is
bonkers good, with Louis C.K. stealing thunder as an FBI boss obsessing a childhood
ice fishing story. That man amazes. A
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