Being an American is an art form and the path is long and arduous, as we see all too plainly in "American Hustle," a huge, sloppy American Dream saga set in 1978. Based loosely on the famed "Abscam" scandal that put several congressmen behind bars ("Some of this actually happened," the movie informs us during the opening credits), "American Hustle" reminds us how the U.S. occupied the position of head honcho in the 20th century: with sheer, ruthless obnoxiousness.
But what a ride. What a nation. And let's not even talk about the bared hairy chests, bell bottoms and outrageous hairdos just yet (though I'm dying to).
Directed by David O. Russell, "American Hustle" assembles an amazing cast consisting of Russell's "Silver Linings Playbook" duo Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, an unrecognizably flabby Christian Bale, and Amy Adams, whose presence here is defined not by her brilliant performance so much as a total, brazen bra-lessness. She spends the entire movie like that, and it's a wonder how anyone — cast and crew alike — got any work done. She and Lawrence share a single, sizzling scene together in the ladies' room and that moment sticks out like a jagged diamond.