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We’ll Always Have Amsterdam: David O. Russell’s Diminished Caper


I’ve never found the plots to David O. Russell movies to be all that interesting. Granted I haven’t seen much of his early work prior to the 2010s and I will acknowledge some directorial and screenwriting skills, but his stories are just not gripping at all. I barely remember anything of American Hustle or Joy, and I can see the same happening within a few years of Amsterdam -a movie populated with weird characters and cute performances, but in service of mediocre filmmaking and utterly dull narrative aims that dilute any compelling facet there is to be found.
Only a small portion of the movie is actually set in Amsterdam, an idyllic home for its’ three main characters, referenced later on with the reverence that Rick Blaine and Ilsa Lund would give Paris. Its’ significance seems to just be as a symbol for the relationship between its’ central trio, inseparable in its’ context. They met towards the end of the First World War, soldiers Burt Berendsen (Christian Bale) and Harold Woodsman (John David Washington), and field nurse Valerie Voze (Margot Robbie). They formed a pact and a very strong friendship, before the former two ultimately returned to the United States. The present narrative sees them reunited in lieu of a conspiracy that resulted in the death of their regiment commander –a conspiracy loosely based on the Business Plot of 1933 in which American fascists colluded to make their own Beer Hall Putsch.
The film is coy about the whole fascism thing as it gradually unwinds its’ mystery, but it’s pretty clearly lurking in the background even just by virtue of the story being set in 1933. Certain characters and details in the investigation invariably point to it, there’s no other conclusion to be drawn. And while the game is thoroughly given away, the narrative momentum running towards it is staid. It’s a lot of not very interesting deductive work that Russell wants to be thrilling, but can’t write to any degree of engaging tension. Individual incidents stand out but not their relevant details. A part of this may have to do with the tone Russell sets, which is that of a light caper –silly and witty and just a tad saccharine. Specifically, it seems to be emanating a style of Pre-Code Hollywood comedy, that’s certainly where the performances are geared towards, but it doesn’t want to fully commit –perhaps due to the subject matter’s ultimate severity- resulting in a movie somewhat awkwardly straddling genre and tone.
Most of the cast at least deliver a solid effort and understand the pitch they are acting to, a few even managing some decent comic performances out of Russell’s difficult script. Most notably, Bale is having a time exploring the bizarre quirks of his character, which include a stiff gait, a glass eye (both the result of wartime injuries), and a dodgy Brooklyn accent. He gets across the most curious personality of the main three, and he is a treat to watch where so much of the movie gets bogged down. The weird pairing of Michael Shannon and Mike Myers as undercover intelligence agents works surprisingly as well, Alessandro Nivola is an unexpected scene-stealer, and even Rami Malek and Anya Taylor-Joy deliver charmingly on their aristocratic absurdism. But at the same time, neither Robbie nor Washington do particularly well with their weak characters, written to nowhere the level of intrigue as Bale’s. They very clearly struggle against the films’ tone and Russell’s writing -true also of the dull performances that come from Andrea Riseborough, Zoe Saldaña, and Robert De Niro. And then there’s Taylor Swift’s brief cameo, which as has been the case with most of her acting attempts thus far, is awful.
It is entirely possible to lay the blame for each of these on Russell’s poor direction and his script issues -which are notably pronounced here, even though again, I don’t think he’s ever been all that good. There are a lot of ideas to his concepts and characters, his picture of the world here in both Amsterdam and Manhattan, that read quite fun -again, much like a 1930s comedy. But he tries to condense it in an overarching pathos that attempts to go for the earnestness of a Wes Anderson movie without any of the depth or stylistic charm. He’s also much too proud of the verbosity in his dialogue, something else he might be trying to crib from Anderson. This style of writing can elicit good wit but it more often just accentuates the tonal inconsistencies -especially in the many areas of misguided humour. The precarious tendencies of the script bleed out into the films’ technical and artistic language, which don’t seem as much in focus. Russell has several talented artisans at his disposal: Daniel Pemberton on the music, Jay Cassidy editing, and cinematography from Emmanuel Lubezki -but you would never tell, their work is diminished or otherwise hampered by the demands of Russell’s uncoordinated vision.
There are a lot of aims in that vision, but Amsterdam hardly gives them the time to mean anything. Interracial relationships, class discrimination, veterans issues -all brought up with the air of significance but nothing substantive to say. Clearly the portrait of 1930s American fascism is drawn to mirror 2020s American fascism, but it too offers little other than the mere education that this happened, choosing to avoid contexts of political climate and history around white supremacy to just present a mostly shallow movement secretly worshiping Mussolini and Hitler and seeking a “strongman” to topple FDR. Like so many of Russell’s ideas here it’s only half-baked, the commentary he wishes to make has no grist, and is mostly diluted by shenanigans and a brief though ineffectual attempt at political sobriety.
Ineffectual is the word to describe this movie, which has the makings of something very fun and even unique in its’ character construction and the whimsical peripheries of its’ tone, but fails to follow through in its’ most vital narrative make-up and artful qualities. These are picked up to some level by some of the cast, who create little moments of zest that are scattered throughout. But these exceptions to the drudgery only amplify it.
Amsterdam is David O. Russell’s first movie in seven years. A series of controversies surrounding his treatment of actors going back decades that have been magnified since, as well as a more recent sexual abuse incident don’t necessarily preclude his ability to get another movie made in the near future -but the financial fall-out of this movie probably does. A major bomb and a mostly bad movie, Amsterdam is not the industry comeback Russell wanted. But it is likely the comeback he deserved.

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