'American Hustle' (R)

“American Hustle” is a puzzle—an intricate, polyester dream of a film that will draw you into an indescribable weave of fact and fiction.

One of the first things we encounter in this weave is Christian Bale’s comb over. He plays a paunchy street-level sharp who ostensibly runs dry cleaning shops. But he sees greater fortune in cheesy cons, bad loans and counterfeit art. Bale’s character encounters his match at a party. Amy Adams takes on the role of another example of the undercurrent, a cheat with false English charm and a knack for spilling from her low cut tops.

But the film is not a dip below the crust of the disco era. Or, rather, it is something much more.

David O. Russell directs with the same emotionally plunging, reaffirming edge as “The Fighter” and “Silver Linings Playbook.” Characters dominate the story, torn between strengths and weaknesses, broken and recovering, lost and found in the same moment.

One of the most vibrant is played by Jennifer Lawrence, a scene-stealer searching through self-help books for a way to frame a beehive life. Lawrence’s character trails trouble in her wake, thick and swirling enough that it could trip up anybody.

Bale and Adams end up being the one’s trapped by a grafter. In this case it is an FBI agent played by the everywhere man of Hollywood, Bradley Cooper, who catches the pair while posing as someone in need of a loan.

The story takes one of its many turns at this point. These are the days in the late 70s and early 80s when politicians of all stripes were on the take, ripe for Arab oil money. Russell drapes the fictional character study over the very real Abscam scandal, which means something only to those with a rich memory of the days of feathered hair, polyester clothing, double-digit interest rates and crises—both of confidence and appearance.

Cooper eventually convinces his boss—a surprisingly deft Louis C.K.—to allow him to hold the cons as hostages, participating in a scheme to bring down greedy politicians by posing as fronts for Arab oil money. Lawrence’s character learns of the plan and wants in, as well.

The cons and the characters multiply from here. There’s the gullible New Jersey mayor who is quickly gobbled up by the pathetic cons. There’s the hard-core, no excuses mobster who is fully capable of sniffing out anything suspicious and making the cast pay. But he is more interested in the greenbacks he senses. And it goes on.

“American Hustle” is a weave, one strand twisting in an out over another, which layers in a different direction running here and there, encountering still further strands.

What makes the film stand out is that, through all the conniving, through all the subterfuges and sudden corners, you never lose the thread. But perhaps that’s not it. As you learn more about each sorry person drawn into the swirl, you gain little in the way of pithy empathy. In fact, there’s a surprising level of disdain that builds up within as the film progresses.

Yet it proves impossible to turn away.

In their own way, each character wants something more from life than is provided for them over the table. Whatever comes to them underneath, the scuzzy ill-gained cash, the petty cons, the forged art—all of that seems glittering to the crew portrayed here. They are losers convinced their actions lead to winning, and there’s a lure dangling that is difficult to ignore.

Ultimately, “American Hustle” is about the acting. From main character to cameo appearance, it is some of the most compelling you will see from Hollywood.

Starring: Christian Bale, Bradley Cooper, Amy Adams, Jennifer Lawerence, Louis C.K., Jeremy Renner, Robert DeNiro