N O M I N E E F I L M B E S T
is a force of nature, crowned by a blonde tornado of hair. Just don’t let her near a microwave! There’s also Jeremy Renner, whose Carmine is as cuddly a corrupt mayor as you will ever meet. Our heroes fl irt, fight, form fragile alliances… front and centre throughout, the tangled to-andfro of human relationships brings an organic vibe to an often mechanical genre. Not only giving the con caper a fresh twist, Russell also spring cleans the ’70s – the decade fashion forgot, but fi lms never do. The vibrant stylings feel more lived-in than kitsch, while familiar chart hits get their groove back via some impeccable song-to-scene matchmaking: the hot throb
BEST FILM NOMINEES Charles Roven, Richard Suckle, Megan Ellison, Jonathan Gordon
OTH ER N O M I N ATED CATEGORIES Costume Design; Director; Leading Actor; Leading Actress; Make Up & Hair; Original Screenplay; Production Design; Supporting Actor; Supporting Actress
of ‘I Feel Love’ set to Sydney/Richie’s dirty discodancing, or the mood-swinging ‘Live And Let Die’, transformed into a showstopping anthem for the mood-swinging Rosalyn. Despite a glancing reference to Watergate/ Vietnam, American Hustle doesn’t have a political axe to grind. It’s a group portrait of dishonest people from a sincerely talented fi lmmaker capable of turning a revolving laundry rack into a romantic idyll. And one whose screwball brilliance kicks in as soon as the needle drops: “Some of this actually happened,” winks the opening caption (a nod to the story’s loose roots in the real-life Abscam operation). Only the facts have been changed, for our supreme entertainment.
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airpieces trump set pieces in American Hustle. That’s not a criticism: David O. Russell’s fi lm flaunts an attention to character detail rare among con capers. Usually, plot is the main motor, tautly snaking its way through multiple switchbacks en route to the grand fi nal rug-pull. There’s one of those here, but we’re drawn in by a different kind of rug: the one seasoned trickster Irving (Christian Bale) carefully pastes to his head in the opening scene. As well as a mesmerising display in itself, it’s an intro that neatly fl ags up the fi lm’s themes of (false) appearances, (shifting) identities and making oneself (comb-)over. As slippery as the characters are, we’re able to latch on to them. Firstly, because Russell and co-writer Eric Singer unmask vulnerabilities, explore fl aws and extend empathy. “More than anything, I want you to fall in love with them,” says the director of his hustlers. Secondly, because of a starry cast setting their collective charisma to full beam. Beer-bellied but light on his feet, Bale hasn’t flexed his comic chops so enjoyably since American Psycho (2000) – the difference being that Irving is a rogue we can root for: a basically decent desperado whose small-time swindling lands him at the centre of a big-time FBI-sponsored scam involving fake sheiks and dodgy politicians. His partner in crime is exstripper Sydney: Amy Adams dressed to kill (and thrill, given the – tactical – amount of midriff on show) in a performance that turns on a dime from smooth criminality to raw emotion. While Bale and Adams do the heavy grifting, Russell re-enlists his Silver Linings Playbook (2012) players Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence (both BAFTA-nominated for their performances in that fi lm, which also won Russell the Adapted Screenplay prize) in roles where they again essay controlled explosiveness. As tightly wound as his (magnificent) perm, Cooper is Richie, the ambitious FBI agent orchestrating the sheik-down; just because he’s on the right side of the law doesn’t make him any less given to bad, mad decisions. And Lawrence – as Irving’s wild wife Rosalyn –