Focus is a shiny
package that offers fleeting, but
reliable, pleasures of moviegoing. It has attractive people in beautiful
locations wearing gorgeous clothes engaging in wittily plotted preposterous
schemes. It stars two glamorous, charming movie stars, an old pro near the
height of his powers (Will Smith) and a young up-and-comer more than ready to take
the spotlight (Margot Robbie). They meet cute as she, an aspiring scam artist,
fails to swindle him, a veteran con man, in a hotel bar. He agrees to help hone
her powers of observation, to shift her mark’s focus with one gesture while
picking a pocket with the other. Besides, he needs a pretty and clever girl to
help pull off his latest schemes. They have a flirtatious early scene lifting
items off each other mid conversation, trading rings and wallets, testing
skill. It’s easy to believe they’re both so charming they could pull off such
delicate, intimate slight of hand with ease.
That also happens to be how writer-directors Glenn Ficarra
and John Requa (of the sly I Love You
Phillip Morris and sappy Crazy Stupid
Love) get away with making a featherlight and empty picture like this feel
fun and diverting in the moment. The movie's so charming it’s easy to lose focus on how ephemeral its effects are. You
don’t even feel 100 minutes slipping away. It's familiar, but cool. Of course the con man appears to
fall for the con woman as their complicated schemes go well, or not. There are
double crossings and ulterior motives, shady side characters and elaborately
convoluted clockwork timing. It’s a movie of globetrotting, big bags of money,
wine, watches, cars, and likable career criminals. Bursting with handsome,
sleek cinematography that’s practically glittering, nighttime glows with warm
light, daytime burns bright and colorful. It’s a cool look.
And the filmmakers know what they’re doing with this surface
cool. The film keeps a tight focus on Smith and Robbie as they court and con
their way through trust-no-one schemes that are simpler than you’d think, but
complicated to unravel the surprises. We start in New Orleans, where Smith is
running an elaborate set of cons around a big football game. After some
satisfying hijinks and romance, the movie switches gears, jumping to Buenos
Aires for another con, longer and more elaborate with an even tighter focus on
our leads. They’re charismatic in that con artist way of never entirely knowing
just how deep their feelings for each other go. Are they using each other? Or
is it really love? It’s not a particularly deep or interesting
characterization, but either way there’s undeniable sparkle in their repartee and satisfaction in seeing them react to twists in the plot.
Ficarra and Requa have fun with a variety of shell game set
pieces, from street-level scams to high-stakes betting and finally high-risk
corporate espionage. Along the way we meet a bumbling master thief (Adrian
Martinez), a brusk security man (Gerald McRaney), a high-rolling gambler (BD
Wong), and a slippery racecar owner (Rodrigo Santoro). They’re an eccentric and
slimy enough rouges gallery we can watch Smith in sharp suits and Robbie in stunning dresses flirt and fool their
way into and out of lots of money without feeling bad about their victims. Everyone’s
playing some sort of game here, and the screenplay unveils its twists and turns
with fine relish. In the end, the flashiness fizzles – when the credits rolled
I thought, that’s it? But there’s something to be said for an
enjoyably slight diversion that just wants to charm and dazzle with alluring
megawatt star power and formulaic genre charms. Its surface pleasures go down
silky smooth.
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