Review: Focus

Will Smith has proven himself a master of many genres, powering the actioners and comedies that have served as his main bread and butter with a cocksure confidence. That particular brand of swagger does come with an expiration date, and it needs to be evolved before it smacks of desperation. The character of Nicky in his latest film Focus is a logical next step. For one thing, Smith has never truly established himself as a romantic leading man - look back on his filmography and Hitch comes off as a happy accident - and veteran con man Nicky mesmerises not through brash displays but via a supreme assurance that makes you work for his attention.

This is immediately evident in the opening sequence when Margot Robbie's Jess activates her con. She's designated Nicky as her mark; they flirt and banter, swaddled in the cool and sexy vibe that eroticised Out of Sight and Charade (both of which are heavily cribbed here). She is the one doing all the work, though she - and perhaps the audience - doesn't know it yet. He is content to sit back, relax, and watch what unfolds as a matter of professional curiosity. Jess is relatively new to the art of the con, but she's savvy enough to know when she's been made and even smarter to deduce that she stands to learn and earn a great deal by being part of Nicky's crew.

Filmmakers Glenn Ficarra and John Requa (Crazy, Stupid, Love) unleash a bombardment of camera whips and zooms and rapid fire cuts as the grifters execute their various plays, diverting and distracting with unbelievable ease. The giddiness Ficarra and Requa manufacture is admirable, even entertaining, but make no mistake - all the razzle-dazzle is meant to disguise the fact that this is a skeleton of a film. It's self-consciously slick and seductive, and it's severely hampered by a wobbling tonality and a third act that completely goes off the rails; the film buckles under its pretzel plotting and risible dialogue.

The directors also employ a series of over-the-shoulder shots which prove to be a peculiar choice. Smith and Robbie are hardly ever together in the same frame - not necessarily a problem even though their characters are professionally and romantically entwined, but it does raise an eyebrow. Why frame them thusly? Is it to indicate that each one is operating on more levels than the eye can see? Fair enough, but the nature of the story mandates an inherent suspicion of the events being presented and the players' motivations. Is it that Smith and Robbie work better apart than together? That's an interesting one to ponder. The pair share a simmering chemistry, and the film's strongest narrative thread lies in the way Nicky slowly comes undone by her very existence, but there's no escaping the fact that Smith is thoroughly eclipsed by Robbie. Outfitted in costumes designed to barely contain her whistle-worthy figure, she snaps, crackles, and pops, commanding the screen with a carnality that is radioactive, playful, and unspoiled. Even when she's in the background, she handily obliterates him out of the frame.

This is not a patch on Smith's star wattage, which remains undiminished, but more an indication of how he and the filmmakers fail to sustain the suaveness and sophistication they forged in the opening moments. There are too many instances when Smith defaults to his broadly comic persona, and it undermines other scenes (one moment intended to be dramatic instead draws snickers). He does not, to use one of Nicky's maxims, "die with the lie."

Though not as engaging as it should be, the slightly overlong Focus does boast a noteworthy supporting trio: B.D. Wong beams with childish glee as the businessman who spurs an on-tilt Nicky to risk millions; Gerald McRaney keeps proving himself an unassailable asset to any film; and Adrian Martinez is a complete and utter delight as Nicky's roly-poly cohort.

Focus

Directed by: Glenn Ficarra, John Requa

Written by: Glenn Ficarra, John Requa

Starring: Will Smith, Margot Robbie, Rodrigo Santoro, Gerald McRaney, Adrian Martinez, B.D. Wong, Brennan Brown