AMERICAN HUSTLE Review

David O. Russell has been making movies for decades, but it appears he only recently fell into his groove as a filmmaker. With "American Hustle," his third movie in just four years, it's as if he's realized this high and wanted to take absolute advantage of it, churning out three acclaimed awards contendors. He has called "The Fighter," "Silver Linings Playbook" and "American Hustle" a spiritual trilogy, and in a sense, it is. All three films carry a manic, frenzied energy with oddball characters who bicker, banter and find unexpected depths. This time, Russell gathered Christian Bale and Amy Adams from one movie, Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence from his other movie, threw in Jeremy Renner for good measure, decided to play dress-up with them full of bodaciously bad hair and flashy lapels, and with it, he's concocted a glorious, delicious mess.

"Some of this actually happens" prefaces the story of a 1978 FBI sting operation that resulted in the conviction of six congressmen and a U.S. senator. At the story's center is Irving Rosenfeld (Christian Bale), professional scam artist with his feisty mistress and partner in crime, Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams). She's so wrapped up in the world of conning that she's developed her own Brit alter ego. Yanking Irving's chain back at home with his adopted kid is his unpredictable sexpot wife Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence) who's ready to screw him over at a moment's notice.

Bring in mayor Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), the guinea pig of the operation, and Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper), the FBI operative who controls the setup but has to constantly check his back to make sure he's not getting conned by the con artists he's working with. It's a deliriously mad screenplay co-written by Russell and Eric Warren Singer that twists, turns and double-crosses but  more often than not hardly holds it together. And directed with Russell's eye, swooping cameras and zippy editing, the thing moves fast and talks fast, like it's hopped up on the drug-laden 70s era in which its set.

What saves it is undoubtedly the electrifying top-tier cast. The film's first image is Bale, who packed on 40 pounds for the role, orchestrating his character's elaborate facade of a combover that is the worst the world has seen. He's shlubby, disgusting and plays the part right on the edge, similar to the wild brother in "The Fighter." Adams, sporting unheard of amounts of sideboob in skimpy dresses, gives her best performance since "Junebug," playing a woman so in conflict with herself more than anybody around her, it's sad and absurd. And Cooper rocks those tight curls in his hair as the one who thinks he's the smartest guy in the room, especially when sparring with a deadpan boss played by Louis C.K.

The weakest link? It pains me to say, but it's Jennifer Lawrence even with her scenery-chewing scenes, which are an absolute kick, most notably her roaring rendition of "Live and Let Die." In the smallish role, her magnetism remains, but the young actress at 23 just doesn't fit the part, and it shows. It's too bad she's the one among these dynamite performances who will most likely go on to Academy acclaim. "Silver Linings" was her shining moment; not this.

SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK Review

Every awards season needs its surefire crowd-pleaser, and David O. Russell's "Silver Linings Playbook" is it.  This screwy and hugely compassionate comedy is also a genre-defying collision of football, ballroom dancing, family drama, mental illness and romantic intrigue. The movie follows Pat Solatano Jr. (Bradley Cooper), a troubled man struggling with his bipolar disorder. He was committed to a psych ward after catching another man with his wife, Nicky, and consequently nearly beating him to death. Now having been released and picked up by his loving, dedicated mother, Dolores (Jacki Weaver of "Animal Kingdom"), Pat's on a life mission to get his wife back. The number of times he mentions her name is a sickness in itself, and it comes with a peculiarly positive outlook on life with the motto "excelsior." Much like he did with his last outing "The Fighter," Russell excels in bringing to life colorful idiosyncrasies; here it's the hectic, buzzing nature of Pat's Philly family to which he's brought home.

Robert De Niro plays Pat Sr., a father who doesn't fully realize the apple hasn't fallen too far from the tree. He's an obsessive-compulsive Philadelphia Eagles fan who turns his football fanaticism into an entire family affair. He lost his job and was banned from the stadium for fighting, so he conducts risky business as a bookie leaving him glued to the TV exhibiting irrational and superstitious behaviors to ensure his team wins. Meanwhile he's frustrated that he doesn't know how to help his own son. This is De Niro's juiciest role in a very long time, and he looks more engaged than ever. Perhaps because it's not just another "Fockers" sequel, and thank goodness because it reminds us why he's one of this generation's great veteran actors.

The movie is a little wobbly to start establishing Pat's personal predicament, but it really gets its footing once Jennifer Lawrence's widowed Tiffany is introduced. They meet at a dinner party hosted by Tiffany's controlling sister, Veronica (Julia Stiles), and her stifled husband, Ronnie (John Ortiz). The minute Pat and Tiffany lock eyes, there is a connection, a chemistry. Tiffany even bluntly asks to have sex, but that's not what she means. She's only turning to her typical habit when it comes to interacting with men. They feed off each other's unfiltered, manic energy, and their scenes together are something to behold. Lawrence appears transformed since we were first introduced to her in 2010's "Winter's Bone." At only 22, she really is the girl on fire, straddling both the "Hunger Games" franchise and an incredibly unhinged performance like this.

Cooper is a comparable match to Lawrence, an actor with a prolific career who tops it off here. The off-kilter sway, momentum and fidgety air he brings to Pat is revelatory and unlike anything we've seen from him before. Behind those bright blue eyes is a vulnerability, a conflicting mess of impulses and emotions; lucky for him, it's something Tiffany shares. They both flirt with disaster, but at least now they can do it together.

Having both written and directed it from the 2008 novel by Matthew Quick, Russell brings the work of a true auteur to "Silver Linings Playbook" with a love for his characters, a very unique rhythm and a quirky sense of controlled chaos. The zany family he sets into play builds and gets more convoluted, especially with the additions of Pat's buddy from the psych ward, played by Chris Tucker who we arguably haven't seen since "Rush Hour," and Anupam Kher as Pat's shrink.

The film's loose storytelling takes Pat and Tiffany to a dance competition -- and without giving too much away, their dance is a sporadic treat, a schizophrenic blast of motion that perfectly mirrors what goes on inside these characters' heads. The scene recalls to mind the beauty pageant at the end of "Little Miss Sunshine," a misshapen family unit coming together. While one of the lessons of "Silver Linings" may just be to find your own silver lining in life, the real silver lining may be that no matter who you are, everybody's just a little bit crazy.

THE FIGHTER Review

"The Fighter" (2010)

If it seems that Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg) lacks a personality, it's because the rest of his family has enough personality to go around. There are moments during David O. Russell's "The Fighter" that we even forget the movie is supposed to be about Micky. He's a fighter all right, fighting in the world of professional boxing but also fighting above the influence of his boisterous family members including his mother Alice (Melissa Leo), his seven sisters and his older brother, Dicky (Christian Bale). Mark Wahlberg in the lead role does his character justice; there is strength in his quiet, reserved and seemingly impersonal performance. Sure he's passive but in his passivity he presents the core of his character's predicament: here's a family so hyped up to speak for him they don't let him speak for himself. His struggle is finding his own voice.

The movie is embedded in the American working class of Lowell, Massachusetts to tell the true story of Micky Ward. It's 1993, and we're placed in this sagging and worn down industrial town that is desperate for news and stricken with unemployment. Dicky Eklund is a local legend for the 15 minutes of fame he received back in the 80s when he beat down Sugar Ray Leonard in a boxing match. Or did Sugar Ray trip? It's a controversy that keeps the bruised underdog legend of Lowell alive. Dicky swears there's a documentary being made about his inevitable boxing comeback, but the cameras are following him for a different reason: his inevitable downfall.

Christian Bale is nothing short of phenomenal as the crack-addicted Dicky. We don't know he's a drug addict right away, but we realize something is wrong with him. His eyes bulge out of his head and dart around wildly, and his grin looks like something carved into a jack-o-lantern. We can tell he's an intelligent and skilled man, but it's all in decay now. Bale conquers the man's psychological and physical challenges and portrays them with ease.

Then there's their mother Alice who serves as Micky's manager who wants to bring him to the top and get him the best matches, but more often than not, it is she and Dicky as Micky's trainer that are unintentionally holding him back from success. Micky trying to tear away from his family, though, his blood, that's not going to happen. Melissa Leo is astounding as the chain smoking chatterbox mother who is a bit of a nightmare resembling the likes of Mo'Nique from "Precious" and Barbara Hershey from "Black Swan." Unwittingly aggressive and overprotective.

When another woman, Charlene (Amy Adams), a fiery bartender, steps into Micky's life over his mother, that's when things get ugly. The family becomes divided. Micky with Charlene and his soft-spoken but protective father (Jack McGee) against his hotheaded mother and brother. Amy Adams is cast against type here as we're used to seeing her playing the good girl. In a film full of throwing punches, she lands some of the heaviest blows when it comes to swinging her fists.

"The Fighter" is expertly cast, and the performances are all around outstanding making this a rousing ensemble piece. The best scenes are when these characters are all together butting heads like bulls. David O. Russell ("I Heart Huckabees") directs with a manic energy flipping rapidly from scene to scene. And while the movie is more exciting when it's outside of the ring, the fighting sequences are shot well in a grainy television style.

This is a movie that is more powerful in individual scenes than as a whole perhaps due to its confinement to the conventions of its genre. This is a sports movie about an underdog rising up in the world of boxing. It's a low-grade "Rocky." We've seen it before. For the most part, though, before that crowd-pleasing climactic knockout, Russell avoids the conventions and marks "The Fighter" as a solidly offbeat sports movie rather than the more typical one it turns out to be.