Popcorn Column by Michael S. Goldberger

Warner Bros.  Scam artists played winningly by Will Smith and Margot Robbie keep each other in 'Focus' despite the plot holes.

Nitpickers who pride themselves on finding the flaws in films needn't pat themselves on the back too heartily for citing the Swiss cheese plot that comprises "Focus," a glittery con caper that's lots of fun despite its rampant implausibility. There are enough leaps of faith in Glenn Ficarra and John Requa's stylish flimflam flick to start its own religion. But its biggest deception is getting us to accept slick and snazzy for true beguilement. Like the kid who knows Gramps isn't really pulling quarters from his ears, we delight in the bamboozlement all the same.

Will Smith as Nicky, the third generation grafter extraordinaire, and Margot Robbie as Jess, the bright-eyed apprentice, might have been played by Laurence Olivier and Vivian Leigh, respectively, if the movie were dressing for dinner. But this is a casual take on the theme, a BYO version with an eye to modern sensibilities that nonetheless achieves that classical chemistry so imperative to the genre. We like 'em both and, conveniently forgetting for 104 minutes that they make their livings by cheating, lying and stealing from honest folks like us, wish them well.

out of 4

Of course, you never ever take anything on face value, not even after the epilogue unravels the treacheries, not even after the closing credits send you to the diner for a late meal and dissection of the chicanery with your movie pals, the Bernsteins. You laugh about it, tacitly asserting that no one with half a smidgen of intelligence could be taken in by the rollicking gambit. Yet, you actually discuss the authenticity of the romance between tutor and pupil and whether, as Cole Porter metaphorically inquired, it is the good turtle soup or merely the mock?

The grand ruse begins in a NYC hotel, where Nicky foils Jess' attempt to entrap him with the old jealous husband routine. The seasoned scam artist politely explains what his amateurish, would-be colleagues did wrong: "You never drop the con. Die with the lie." Infatuated with this obvious superstar of her chosen profession, Jess does a little research and later confronts him just before his departure for the really big sting in New Orleans during Super Bowl weekend. She wants in, imploring him to teach her the ropes. The game is afoot.

Per this insider's look at how it's done, we are apprised that, like any big business, a lot of hard work, planning and investment goes into fleecing John Q. Public. But they all seem to be having so much darn fun. Comrades who've been plying the racket for years, they number about 30, all experts in one area or another. Unsurprisingly, everyone likes the winsome quick learner, and she likes them, even Farhad (Adrian Martinez), Nick's longtime sidekick who references the lewd in everything.

Prepare for the outrageous as a Rube Goldberg-like litany of artifice is put in motion, the premium swindlers leaving nothing to chance, but nonetheless completely dependent on things working out by the slimmest of hairsbreadth margins. The filmmakers don't for a second pretend to play fair. If we are wowed, it is because, like the audience at a magic show, we are never privy to the backstage wizardry. It is fast and dizzying.

Following the very enterprising New Orleans bash, where our ever-sparring lovebirds suffer a mysteriously unexplained disconnect, a fast-forward jets us to the exciting, international opulence of Formula 1 racing where Nicky is working some high-speed angles. But gosh, serendipitously or not, Jess, now with three more years of swindling under her belt, just happens to make the scene, apparently a racing bigwig's main squeeze. Here the subterfuge and malarkey gets as thick as artificial molasses, and, oh no, the plot seems to turn deviously serious.

But have no fear, ye who have suspended your disbelief in the name of lighthearted diversion. More twists, turns and farfetched contrivances await down the film's crooked boulevard, fully assuring yet another raft of outlandish disclosures. Befittingly, in the glib spirit of the farce, the script plays dirty pool, tacking on explanations with seemingly reckless abandon. Yet it works, due in no small part to Smith's charisma and a decided uptick in his thespic savvy. Seizing the opportunity of her star turn, Robbie chicly complements the lead's newfound swagger.

Indeed, this all could have been shrewder, tighter and more enthralling, instead of just good-naturedly playful. Accepting its faults in the name of amusement amounts to an adult version of the child who purposely spins and spins so that he may enjoy the wooziness sure to follow. So while I'm hardly ever a fan of sequels, if one should arise, but hopefully with an Asta-like dog in tow to add that classical touch, I'd be sure to "Focus" in its direction.

"Focus," rated R, is a Warner Bros. release directed by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa and stars Will Smith, Margot Robbie and Adrian Martinez. Running time: 105 minutes

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