It’s 1930s America, and as Amsterdam’s opening text enlightens us, most of the events we’re about to see are true. Well, that’s a better indicator of historical accuracy than director David O’Russell 1970s-set American Hustle, which only admitted to some of its content being legit. Either way, historical accuracy is used similarly in both films as a precursor to outline their screwball plots. It frames the story, but only as a necessary background.
American Hustle prioritised style over substance, and while it had a stellar cast with some impressive visuals, the rest of the endeavour felt hollow and poorly written. Visuals are again one of the highlights in O’Russell’s work as we travel back and forth between 1930s America and flashbacks of war-torn France in 1918, where Burt Berendsen befriends fellow soldier Harold Woodsman followed by nurse Valerie Voze after the men suffer major injuries. When Berendsen and Woodsman retire to New York, they later become suspects in the murder of their former commander Bill Meekins. Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (Children of Men, Birdman) puts in fine work as per usual, with his characteristic naturalistic lighting haunting rooms where hardboiled narratives are interlaced with chicanery and bathos.
Berendsen stops to marvel at one point, describing ‘A tapestry, everything in it’, essentially summing up Amsterdam’s visual priorities. Lubezski spends much of the film lingering on attractive faces in close-up, and there’s certainly nothing unpleasant about staring at the earnest expressions of Margot Robbie and John David Washington’s earnest lovers. Bale’s emaciated, mournful expressions along with his crazed hairstyle (a far cry from his paunchy con artist in American Hustle, where Bale reportedly gained 43 pounds) frequently become an Expressionist portrait, illustrating past pain and suffering with minimal facial movement. Berendsen and Woodsman’s lowkey camaraderie becomes a focal point amidst the film’s increasingly bewildering plot.
It’s here where Amsterdam falls down; the likeable central trio alongside an impressive array of aesthetic filmmaking aren’t enough to bolster a weak screenplay and an unconvincing – though undeniably star-studded – side cast. While directors like Wes Anderson have managed to create a kind of kooky, fun ‘spot that recurring actor’ vibe with many of his films, that feeling still isn’t quite working with regular cameos like Robert DeNiro, who seems to be playing the same basic ‘Robert DeNiro’ role across O’Russell’s films. It’s also difficult to separate Mike Myers from Mike Myers in Inglorious Bastards for similar reasons, although Bale, an O’Russell regular, remains compelling with his eccentric, and at times heartfelt, central performance. If you’re willing to accept the twisty turvy, not always comprehensible narrative and prefer to bask in those pristine visuals, you’ll probably have a good time in Amsterdam.