“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster”: the opening line of Goodfellas is Martin Scorsese’s “Call me Ishmael.” Now, for the director and the rest of Hollywood, the con artist seems to be the new gangster. Like the mafia boss, the corrupt businessman has become an instant symbol of a lifestyle of wealth, power, and depravity (Patrick Bateman, anyone?). In the aftermath of the financial crisis, the themes of greed and corruption resonate onscreen, especially in three of the best films of last year: David O. Russell’s American Hustle, Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street, and Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine, all set against the backdrop of white-collar crime. The swindlers in these films are based on, or are a thinly veiled interpretation of, real con artists: Melvin Weinberg in American Hustle, Jordan Belfort in Wolf, and Bernie Madoff in Blue Jasmine.
“Did you ever have to find a way to survive and you knew your choices were bad, but you had to survive?” begins Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale) in American Hustle, as he tells the story of his path to becoming a con artist. As a child, he broke the windows of neighborhood shops to create more work for his father’s glass business, and since then, he’s never looked back, progressing to dealing in stolen art and loan scamming. Irving meets Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams) at a party, and the two soon become partners in “love and commerce,” as she puts it, making more money from their scams together than they ever had before. I love the beginning of the movie, which epitomizes their madcap, Bonnie-and-Clyde-style relationship. They feel no remorse for the people they con, and, as Irving explains, "We're all conning ourselves one way or another just to get through life."
When Irving and Sydney are caught in one of their scams by FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper), they agree to participate in an FBI sting operation, targeting corrupt public officials, in exchange for their freedom. What follows is a loose adaptation of the FBI Abscam operation that took place in the late 70s and early 80s. I won’t bore you with the details, but there is a lot to enjoy in American Hustle: stellar acting, especially from Adams and Cooper, and the great 70s soundtrack and costumes (elaborate hairdos and all). And in American Hustle, the cons are a means to an end: the promise of a better life for Irving and Sydney, of promotion and recognition for the ambitious Richie. The title suggests that there is something fundamentally American about the desire that drives these characters, who were raised on the ideal of the self-made man.
Like Irving, the con artist in The Wolf of Wall Street didn't start at the top, either: Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a self-described “former member of the middle class.” But that’s where the similarities end—Irving Rosenfeld was no ruthless, drug-addled monster, and the streets of the Bronx are a far cry from Wall Street. As a stockbroker, Belfort works his way up the Wall Street ladder, eventually opening his own firm, Stratton Oakmont, where he makes millions swindling investors in penny stocks. Belfort’s life is an endless stream of drugs and prostitutes; the film is an over-the-top, yet entertaining portrait of hedonism and debauchery. Belfort is as sleazy as they get, but DiCaprio plays him with his standard charm and likeability (not unlike his portrayal of other millionaire, Jay Gatsby). Some have criticized the movie for glorifying Belfort’s lifestyle, but I would say the film is more of a con in itself: it sells an image, and some people will be seduced by it. (True story: I heard someone say he was switching his major to economics after watching this movie.) “Money doesn’t just buy you a better life,” Belfort says matter-of-factly in a voiceover. “It also makes you a better person.” And, in a line reminiscent of Goodfellas, he declares, “I always wanted to be rich.” While Irving and Sydney conned as a way to survive and fell in love with the glamor that it brought, Jordan does it because he’s high on his own power and can’t stop; he is addicted to the idea of being rich.
The third film in which cons are an integral part, and my personal favorite, is Blue Jasmine. It feels odd to say that a Woody Allen movie is more serious than a Scorsese one, but this time it’s true. Set in the present day, the film follows the titular Jasmine (Cate Blanchett), a former Manhattan socialite, as she struggles to adapt to life with her adopted sister Ginger (Sally Hawkins) in a not-so-glamorous part of San Francisco. Jasmine is the 1%—or, at least, she used to be, until her husband, Bernie-Madoff-inspired Wall Street executive Hal (Alec Baldwin), was imprisoned for fraud. Suddenly, everything Jasmine has depended on for security and structure in her life is gone. With no job, no degree, and no discernible skills, she has no choice but to turn to family – to the sister she has looked down her nose at her whole life.
In less capable hands, the film could have become an unbearable depiction of first world problems, but Blanchett gives one of the most stunning performances I have ever seen, imbuing her entitled snob of a character with depth and sincerity as her reality crumbles around her. She’s almost sure to win the Oscar this year.
From The Sting to Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, filmgoers have always loved a good con. There is something fascinating about the way it reveals human tendencies toward greed and corruption but also holds potential for humor and redemption. This is the common thread in three of the best films of 2013—movies that are otherwise vastly different. (For one, Blue Jasmine is the only one that shows the effects of the scams on its victims.) But what they do have in common is how quickly the fates of the characters change: they rise and they fall, leaving behind a wake of destruction. These films show the transient nature of life at the top and the cost of conning one’s way into success, whatever that may mean.