A brilliant grifter movie as told through the school of Scorsese, American Hustle brims with director David O. Russell’s confident vision and an assured cast who deliver electric performances.

Several years ago O. Russell was damn near unemployable, a combination of bad reputation (his on- set squabbles with actors are legendary) and high profile projects that fell through during mid-production. Now with American Hustle the Oscar nominated filmmaker has delivered his third straight gem (following The Fighter and Silver Linings Playbook), which he deserves to encrust upon a crown and place upon his head, for O. Russell is (currently) king of American filmmakers and boy don’t the actors who work for him know it, with the assemblage of talent here all delivering career defining work: Christian Bale is at his transformative best, Amy Adams has never been sexier, Bradley Cooper tap dances on the edge of wild abandon and Jennifer Lawrence steals scenes with a firecracker of a performance.

Although revolving around the infamous “ABSCAM” stings of the late ‘70s (where the FBI caught several politicians accepting bribe money), O. Russell and co-screenwriter Eric Singer have created a largely fictionalised account of those events that is sleek, sexy, and unabashedly entertaining, owing more than a nod or two to Martin Scorsese’s crime masterpiece Goodfellas.

This is not a bad thing. While many a filmmaker have ripped off Goodfellas (including Scorsese himself with his 1995 crime thriller Casino), O. Russell has delivered a spiritual cousin in American Hustle that while tapping the same themes of capitalism & the pursuit of happiness the “American way”, it beats a stronger heartbeat thanks to the conflicted, sincere nature of these characters, and features a larger, sweeping scope where the hustlers, the government, the feds and the mob all fall for the same hypocrisy. After all, this film was originally titled “American Bullshit” for a reason.

At its core is the relationship between Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale) and Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams), brilliant con artists and unlikely soul mates who are caught by and coerced into working for ambitious FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper) on a large scale operation involving crooked politicians, among them noble yet foolish New Jersey senator Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner).  

The wildcard in this fragile house of cards is Irving’s wife, Roselyn, played by Jennifer Lawrence in her second consecutive collaboration with O. Russell that is sure to bring a consecutive Oscar win along with it. Brash, voluptuous, with a loud mouth made for trouble and insidious mind to go with it, Lawrence’s depiction of this Jersey housewife is the kind of scene stealing, madcap role that – if not for the skills of Lawrence and directorial control of O. Russell - could engulf the screen in the wrong way, yet thankfully does not.

Great too are the rest of O. Russell’s players. Amy Adams delivers what is undeniably her sexiest, ballsiest performance yet in her portrayal of an alluring, multi-faced seductress looking for greener pastures, with a confidence that is as confronting as her plunging neckline (no doubt copious amounts of Hollywood tape was used in this production!) Bradley Cooper goes all out in attitude and style, bringing that keen comedic timing and one hell of a perm to his role of a FBI agent whose pursuit of justice is equalled by his raging ego, and Jeremy Renner stealthily asserts himself in the films quietest yet most sympathetic role of a New Jersey senator whose Elvis Presley inspired quiff is as big as his heart.

Most impressive of all is the chameleon madness of Christian Bale. 40 pounds overweight, with a comb over that is a masterpiece of structure and bad taste, Bale’s transformation into Irvin Rosenfeld is pure method genius, a complete creation made from the outside in, with the characters scuzzy yet honourable street wise constitution as rich as the bloated shell that encases it.

It’s a shame that while the efforts of Daniel Day Lewis are showered with praise, Bale’s continuous physical and mental dedication to his roles are bypassed as some sort of novelty. Here is an actor who exemplifies an era of supreme thespian dedication in American cinema, a mixture of Pacino and De Niro with a touch of Hoffman thrown in for good measure. (Ironically De Niro himself did not recognise Bale during there one shared scene together).  

That American Hustle is set in the ‘70s is the perfect coincidence, for it is a movie that would have fit right into the “New Hollywood” of that era where directors were king, actors went beyond the pale and stories had balls. Funny, confident, superbly written and dazzlingly performed, American Hustle is a tremendous film made by a brilliant cinematic mind.