Beautiful faces loom large in David O Russell’s latest comedy, which stars Margot Robbie, John David Washington and Taylor Swift (putting the humiliation of Cats behind her; go Tay Tay!) What makes Amsterdam gripping, however, are the wired and witty performances from Christian Bale, Robert De Niro, Andrea Riseborough, Anya Taylor-Joy and Mike Myers. That, plus Emmanuel Lubezki’s electrifyingly informal camera-work and a plot that’s spookily relevant to our times.
The writer/director behind Three Kings, Silver Linings Playbook and American Hustle uses a ton of freeze-frames to tell a sprawling story packaged as a whodunnit. Basically, during WWI, half-Jewish, unhappily married, American soldier Burt (Bale), is horribly injured but clicks, emotionally, with a beleaguered Black GI, Harold (Washington), and a quirkily artistic nurse, Valerie (Robbie).
The three skedaddle to the capital of Holland, where they enjoy a whimsical existence that’s meant to seem idyllic, but of course, can’t last. Years later, the murder of a Senator reunites the trio and eventually brings them to the door of a grumpy but honest war hero, General Gil Dillenbeck (De Niro; glorious), whose charisma shadowy forces hope to exploit.
For those wondering where Swift fits into all this, her “role” is really an extended cameo. I heart the singer, but unlike her ex, Harry Styles, she’s just swishing her toes in the acting pool and though she’s supremely competent as the Senator’s grief-stricken daughter, her eagerness to shine is palpable and distracting.
As for the charming Robbie and Washington, they can’t be blamed for the fact that most of the scenes involving Valerie and Harold are maddeningly smug. Harold is honourable, 24/7; Valerie is one of those damn manic dream pixies.
Luckily, in the land of the somewhat bland, Bale’s one-eyed doctor is king. Burt’s pioneering and arguably reckless attitude to class A drugs takes us into territory that feels properly complicated, as does his relationship with his well-heeled Aryan wife, Beatrice (Riseborough), who gets a sexual thrill out of insulting her husband’s war-skewered body (“You’re hideous and grotesque... you wear a corset like a woman”).
Taylor-Joy and Myers (as Libby, Valerie’s tightly-wound sister-in-law and Paul, a high-energy businessman-cum-spy) are equally fascinating. You can’t work out if Libby and Paul are creepy and dangerous or if they’ve just taken too many uppers. And that mystery keeps things tense, right to the end.
Pills and perversity have always brought out the best in Russell (the sick dynamic between Burt and Beatrice is redolent of the dysfunctional relationship between a wannabe medic and his addled mum in Russell’s debut, Spanking the Monkey). In the worlds created by this restless film-maker, the majority of folk aren’t free, they’re fried.
Viewers may feel a little woozy themselves, by the time they’re given facts about Major General Smedley Butler (the real-life man on whom Dillenbeck is based). It’s truly mind blowing that this explosive chapter of American history has remained buried for so long.
134mins, cert 15
