Flowers, but with garbage.

I'm a terrible person. At least as far as the blogging community goes, I assume. I almost never read anybody else's work. Seriously. It is not because I don't want to (or am uninterested), it's that I'm late to everything. I'm so worried I'm going to inadvertently lift something from someone, I stay the Hell away entirely. Inspiration (and homage) is one thing, plagiarism is another.

It's not stolen, and likely not even a tribute, but David O. Russell's Oscar-nominated American Hustle feels a lot like a Martin Scorsese film. Well, Scorsese-lite, anyway. Perhaps Scorsese has inadvertently cornered the market on ensemble epics loaded with seedy wiseguys and double and triple crosses, or perhaps Russell has seen Goodfellas more times than he can remember. Either way, I simply couldn't shake the notion that this was a new-school attempt at a Scorsese flick. And while that's not the worst thing in the world by any stretch, it's kind of tough to swallow when the master is not only still alive, but arguably at the top of his game [review].

Anyway, the mostly (partly?) true story begins with a couple of small-time con artists fleecing some scumbags for five grand at a time. This duo, Irving (a fantastically lovable Christian Bale) and Sydney (a solid and super-hot Amy Adams), are living the dream when they unknowingly run their game on Richie, an undercover federal agent. Richie (an amusing Bradley Cooper), sensing Irving's feelings for Sydney, forces the master con man to work for him in exchange for the girl's release. The deal? They get him four larger busts and all will be forgiven. Shouldn't be too hard, right? Well...about that...