The trouble with movies about “The Big Con” is that they condition us to not believe anything we see up on screen — relationships, who is conning whom, deaths, etc.
“Focus” one-ups that by pushing a romance to the fore, one that is supposed to be fun, sexy and cute. But when we don’t buy the veteran con man (Will Smith) in love with the hot young acolyte (Margot Robbie), well, what is there to cling to? They generate about as much heat as John Travolta and Idina Menzel managed on Sunday night’s Oscars.
Chemistry, or the lack of it, burns a big hole in this supposedly romantic, unconvincingly tense, feebly comical caper from the guys who gave us “I Love You, Phillip Morris,” Glenn Ficarra and John Requa. It’s got an “Ocean’s 11” sheen without the requisite snap, a “Grifters” set-up without an edge or sexual spark.
Smith is Nicky, a third-generation hustler who runs a team of pickpockets, grifters and thieves who show up at major sporting events and ruin a lot of people’s vacations. When Jess (Robbie) throws herself in his path in a swank restaurant where she’s just lifted the wallet off a mark, Nicky sizes her up, shoots her down and inspires her plea.