Amsterdam, which wants to be a star-studded paranoid thriller, is only star-studded.
Burt (Christian Bale) and Harold (John David Washington) met as American soldiers in WWI, and stay in Europe after the war, sharing an Amsterdam apartment and a bohemian lifestyle with another spirited American expat, Valerie (Margot Robbie). As Amsterdam the movie opens, Burt, now a shady physician, and Harold, now a lawyer, have returned to New York City, and the two share a commitment to helping other WWI veterans. The two are called to investigate a suspicious death, which they determine to have been a murder, and then there’s another murder, for which they are framed. Off they go to find the real murderers and clear themselves, becoming entangled in a convoluted conspiracy and re-encountering Valerie in the process.
Despite Bale, Washington and Robbie delivering solid performances, the story never pops. That’s the fault of a remarkably disappointing screenplay by director David O. Russell (Silver Linings Playbook, American Hustle). We’re never surprised, never waiting for the next page to be turned, and not particularly invested in the characters.
The movie’s stars aside, Russell also wastes the talents of a ridiculously deep cast: Robert De Niro, Rami Malek, Andrea Riseborough, Ana-Taylor-Joy, Chris Rock, Michael Shannon, Zoe Saldana, Mike Myers, Timothy Olyphant, Taylor Swift, Matthias Schoenaert, Alessandro Nivola. There’s not a bad performance in the lot, but they just don’t get much to do. Michael Shannon and Mike Myer bring some laughs, but Schoenaert and Nivola have roles that could have been played by cardboard cutouts. Two weeks later, I can’t even remember Olyphant’s character. After winning an Oscar for wearing horse teeth and NOT singing like Freddie Mercury, Rami Malek seems to have settled into a career playing reptilian villains.
Here’s an example of bad storytelling . [SPOILER ALERT] The movie’s climax is an attempted assassination in an auditorium, like in The Manchurian Candidate. Burt is staggered by a bullet in the torso. Then there’s a fracas in which the shooter is apprehended. There’s a melee with uniformed Nazi sympathizers. Malek and Taylor-Joy’s characters are exposed, and the conspiracy is explained. Ten minutes later, as everyone leaves the auditorium, Burt removes his jacket and reveals that the bullet had only struck his back brace, and he doesn’t have a gunshot wound after all. By this time, I had FORGOTTEN THAT HE HAD BEEN SHOT.
An allusion to a real historical conspiracy is only a half-hearted political statement because this movie’s plot is just like that of every fictional paranoid conspiracy.
I recommend skipping Amsterdam and watching American Hustle again.