by Brett Parker
My friends and I have recently been lamenting the fact that the younger Will Smith is truly gone and can never fully come back, for such are the sands of time. It’s too bad, because these dreary and sensitive times could really use a dose of the rakish exuberance he came to perfect on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. One of the major keys to that show’s success was the boyish mischief Smith concocted to drive the show’s plot engine, an ideal which came basked in his offbeat sartorial moves and resourceful confidence. It’s not hard at all to see why The Fresh Prince himself went on to become such a major box office draw, for an improbably smooth jokester dodging fireballs and blowing up aliens speaks oceans about movie star likability. Yet once marriage, fatherhood, the Wild, Wild West fiasco, and two Oscar nominations came into play for Big Willie Style, he seemed to allow a distilled stoicism to infect his work. He would find his later day comfort zone being the voice of deadpan reason in solemn or hostile landscapes. Like Liam Neeson, Smith preferred putting up a stone cold front in unforgiving movie scenarios, being too calculating and weary to find much time to be funny or charming. While hidden brains and canny stoicism are never things to frown down upon, I can’t be the only modern day moviegoer who drifted towards memories of Smith shoving breadsticks up his nose or blaring R&B jams for all of California to hear.
What makes Focus such an exceptional work is the way it blends the playfulness and charm of Smith’s younger years with the headstrong grit of his later career. In a caper where he’s been hired to put his touches on the Danny Ocean archetype, Smith’s history elevates a classical con man role into a lively slickster-gone-Jedi, bringing richness to a movie we never expected to find. He’s surely energized by the presence of super-hottie Margot Robbie, an emerging star who’s also out to downplay part of her persona to prove that she can generate assured fun across any cinematic scenario. Their mega-wattage mixture damn near cons you into thinking that Focus is at a considerable distance from being outright generic.
The film centers on Nicky Spurgeon (Smith), a veteran con artist who spends his days observing high-end landscapes and keeping a close eye on all the criminal angles. Nicky is a major player in a network of thieves and grifters who’ve created an elaborate system of scams, lifts, and gambits to separate careless suckers from their hard-earned cash. In a world where crime doesn’t pay but the working man is a sucker, Nicky and his cohorts operate like small business owners: mid-level opportunists who make a play for safe volume to keep their bank accounts beating in such an unforgiving capitalist world. Nicky crafts himself as a cool-headed point man whose sense of worldly fashion and endless experience appears unmatched.
Nicky seems content to move about his world quietly until the day a newbie player named Jess Barrett (Margot Robbie) attempts to roll him in an unsuccessful hotel robbery akin’ to the hilarious one from In Bruges. Although Nicky is unimpressed with her faulty execution, he is jazzed by her relentless enthusiasm to become a master player just like Nicky. With a blonde beauty that hits on all cylinders and an edgy sunshine that’s the most lively thing for miles, Nicky senses that taking on Jess as an apprentice could make life more fun. Pretty soon, he’s showing her the ways of the con, from street pickpocketing to magnificently ballsy gambling feats. But he correctly senses that he’s falling hopelessly in love with her, and his past taught him that emotions will get you killed in a con game. Nicky finds a wicked way to push her away, but then realizes that stealing her heart may just be the greatest swindle of all. But when two thieves have misdirection embedded in their cores, trying to be honest with one another proves to be way more complicated then they ever could’ve expected, especially when both are caught up trying to pull a risky job over on a racing tycoon (Rodrigo Santoro) in Buenos Aires.
Focus is the next directorial effort from duo Glen Ficarra & John Requa after Crazy, Stupid, Love, and both those films prove that the pair are out to bring feelings of freshness to treasured Hollywood genres and blast an old-school sense of glamourous high style into the proceedings. Focus is certainly one of the best-looking crime capers in many a moon, for Director of Photography Xavier Grobet, Production Designer Beth Mickle, Art Director Kelly Curley, and Costume Designer Dayna Pink all bring their A-Game together to craft a candy-coated cinematic world that’s like a Technicolor teenage fever dream. But this neon-colored world isn’t just a hollow shell, for we sense how Nicky and Jess’s surroundings are painted in their gaga emotions to completely bury the chaos and pain lurking beneath such a criminal universe. For if their risky world truly is a game of focus, then these characters decide to focus on details of their environment that highlight the high style slickness and wealthy graces of their earned rewards.
Like her character, Margot Robbie is out to prove that she’s more than just a pretty face but has the charisma and cleverness to pull off being a alluring pro. In her first major leading lady role, she comes across like a young Michelle Pfeiffer-in-training, but we see in her what Nicky sees in Jess: a fireball of promise who feels like a breath-of-fresh-air in a deeply cynical world. But this is Smith’s show all the way, and the film’s jolt comes in the surprising ways the character of a legendary criminal plays up on the entire history of Smith’s persona. In many ways, Smith the movie star is also a seasoned smoothie hip to all the angles in a deceptive and shrewd operation and could handle any chaotic situation tossed his way with expert ease. We’re thankful for the ways the character brings out the edgy dapperness and roguish humor that was such a welcome staple in Smith’s younger years and his seasoned wisdom is also given an exciting outlet this time thanks to the ways the rules of being an expert con man has bundles in common with the rules of being a Hollywood leading man. We may even get a rare glimpse into Smith’s psychology with the subplot of how Nicky got the nickname “Mellow” from his father. Nicky explains that the nickname is meant to represent an emotional softness inherently lurking beneath his cool exterior. Perhaps this highlights a softness that frightens most leading men who are out to prove their true grit. Is this a softness that Smith feels has infected his movie star persona? Is he guilty that such a softness may have held him back from transcendent work on par with, say, Daniel Day-Lewis? Does such a fear of softness explain why so much of his Fresh Prince persona feels buried nowadays?
Focus isn’t so much a watered-down Ocean’s Eleven as it is Notting Hill for men, a movie fantasy that highlights how complicated dating can be for a highly-accomplished thespian. While the Julia Roberts hit concluded that leading women want a witless nice guy to roll with all the punches, the Will Smith vehicle suggests that leading men want a colorful gal who’ll match us in terms intelligence and playfulness. Whether or not you share that romantic worldview, there’s no denying that Will Smith on the search for his big-screen feminine equal is such a fascinating cinematic ride since finding ANY mammal who can match Will Smith seems rarer than finding Yeti on spring break. A movie star who can simultaneously make us belly laugh, dress to the nines, charm the ladies, and frighten the bad guys is starting to tragically feel like a symbol of lost graces akin to The Samurai. It’s bewildering how the Cary Grant section of the Hollywood Playbook is both considered holy scripture and grossly underutilized.
