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'Focus' razzles but doesn't dazzle

Barbara VanDenburgh
The Arizona Republic

Few subgenres of film are as compulsively watchable as the con-artist crime movie. It's giddy and gratifying to watch a masterfully crafted con unfold, each of the many small mechanisms clicking into place to form an impressive whole. Even when the cons are lacking, you've still got the pleasure of watching charismatic, good-looking movie stars swindle the ordinary rubes.

Will Smith (left) and Margot Robbie star in “Focus,” out today.

"Focus" claims the latter distinction. Will Smith and Margot Robbie make for an attractive pair of scammers looking to lie, cheat, charm and steal their way to fortune with a considerable supply of pluck and swagger. While it brings nothing new to the con-artist fold, or even anything thrilling, "Focus" is a seductive enough rehash that benefits from the built-in pleasures of the trade.

The con game starts when the ravishing Jess (Margot Robbie) abandons her boorish date and sidles up to a table where a man is dining alone in an upscale restaurant. That man, Nicky (Will Smith), quickly takes to her charms; the two have an easy rapport, one that quickly leads to the exchange of hotel room numbers and the start of a hot and heavy make-out session.

When a man bursts into the room with a gun and tries to rob Nicky, well, he doesn't blink — instead, he gives them pointers. Because Nicky himself is a professional grifter, so good that he can spot a play even when a bombshell beauty is kissing him. Instead of being cowed by her failure, Jess pursues Nicky and, all admiration and wide-eyed naivete, demands con-artist lessons. Nicky obliges.

It's a standard con artist-film trope: the seasoned vet taking the gung-ho newbie under his wing until the two are as precise and finely calibrated as watch gears. He's emotionally distant and mysterious with seemingly no serious earthly attachments, aside from cash. She's an open book, a one-time foster kid looking for a place to belong in the world, even if it's on the arm of a hustler.

Jess proves herself a quick study, following her mentor to New Orleans, where Nick has amassed an entire team of swindlers to take advantage of the Super Bowl rolling through town, because the Super Bowl means suckers. Lots of them.

There's a basic satisfaction in watching the polished pair and their cohorts in crime pull off minor cheats: executing the fine art of misdirection, pickpocketing with chopsticks, slipping off watches mid-handshake. It's the big cons, the intricate ones, the ones that should be the most fun, where the movie stumbles and shows its hand.

For every high-stakes mark — a rich gambler who just happens to have a briefcase loaded with $1 million cash on him at the Super Bowl, racecar drivers in search of an edge — there's a scheme so far-fetched and convoluted Nicky needs at least five minutes of exposition following each one to justify the turn of events to viewers.

After you get duped the first time, a major part of the film's fun crumbles. You know you won't be able to figure out the next big con because the film doesn't play by its own rules, so there's no incentive to try. That feels like a con, and not the fun kind.

Rating: Two stars (out of four)