Catch Me If You Can
Directed by Steven Spielberg
Written by Jeff Nathanson
Starring Leonardo DiCaprio,
Tom Hanks and Christopher Walken
Classification: PG
Rating: ***
G reat impostors make for great yarns, and it's not hard to figure out why. They fall squarely into the pop tradition of the tall tale, they invariably feature a picaresque rogue of terrific charm, and they speak straight to the latent impostor in all of us. Add in the fact that Catch Me If You Can has Steven Spielberg behind the camera -- in one of his cheerful, sunny-side-up outings -- and the result should be a nice, light treat. It is. No more than that, despite ample opportunities, but let's not carp -- the glass is beyond half-full.
Adapted from his book of the same title, this particular yarn is centred on the figure of Frank Abagnale, whose fraudulent credentials are both real and really impressive -- he posed as an airline pilot, a doctor and a lawyer while cashing in on over $3-million in forged cheques, all before his 21st birthday. For those of us gridlocked on the straight and narrow, he's definitely a guy we want to get to know.
To that end, Spielberg whisks us back to Frank's teenage years and, speaking of forgeries, casts Leonardo DiCaprio in the role -- seems Leo can still pass for a credible 16. The time is the early sixties and the place is vintage Spielberg turf -- the white-bread suburbs, New Rochelle specifically, where our impostor-to-be lives happily in the lap of middle-class luxury. His father (Christopher Walken) adores his big house and his shiny car almost as much as his sexy French wife. It's pure Ozzie-and-Harrietville, a pastel paradise, until daddy discovers that his line of credit is running significantly shorter than his line of b.s. Cue the fall from grace. Bankruptcy threatens, mom does what any gold digger would do when the mine runs dry, and the divorce is finalized.
Frank is left to quit school and hit the streets in pursuit of his chameleon calling. Why? Apparently all the blame attaches to his broken family, his urgent wish to recoup its fortunes and reassemble its parts. Although this is pretty much what you'd expect from Spielberg (E. T. calls home and so does Frank), the psychology here is awfully thin -- it wipes clean with spit and a hanky.
Then again, motivation is hardly the key to this sort of flick. Mainly, we just want to find out how in hell the kid pulled it off. So bring on the roguish hijinks, and let the narrative be as episodic as it wants. The script does just that, at least for awhile, and the movie gathers some sprightly momentum. Out of his league in Gangs of New York, DiCaprio fits this bill nicely, and gives Frank a winning brand of ingenuous intelligence -- intelligent enough to dream up his many scams, ingenuous enough to be cheerfully surprised by their success. I don't want to spoil your fun by divulging his trade secrets, but here's a pair of career hints for any aspiring impostor: (1) A spiffy pilot's uniform gains you entry to a lot more than the friendly skies; and (2) If you're looking to ultrafast-track into the medical profession, aim high at a managerial job -- managers don't do anything but go to meetings anyway.
These and other escapades are a hoot -- it's the hoodwinking stuff we paid to see. Unfortunately, the film tends to take its title too much to heart, insisting that any thief must have his catcher. Meet Agent Hanratty (Tom Hanks), assigned to white-collar crime, and as thick as he is earnest. Time and again, Frank eludes him, but the G-man is nothing if not dogged, and the story starts to descend into Sylvester & Tweety territory. As the years pass, their paths always seem to cross on Christmas Eve, a gimmick designed to give the narrative some cohesion, the picture a little seasonal flavour, and Frank an ersatz father. Nice try but, at 0 for 3, the gimmick ends up batting no better than Hanratty.
In fact, the cop role is underwritten, and totally handcuffs Hanks, who settles for hiding behind a pair of horn rims and a vague Boston accent. As for DiCaprio, the wispiness that can be his downfall in other parts stands him in good stead on this outing -- he's eminently capable of portraying the bearable lightness of being. But the true thief here is Walken, who steals the picture outright, turning the bankrupt daddy into a pathetic Willy Loman. Aware of his son's rewarding shenanigans, he looks up to the boy with a mixture of envy and sadness, knowing that in the cut-throat realm of business, dad is the fraud and Frank is the real deal with the right stuff -- kiting cheques today, fronting Enron tomorrow.
The movie could have used a further dose of the resonance Walken gives it, and a more intellectually adventurous director might have brought the theme close to home -- after all, Hollywood's in the forgery biz itself. Still, Spielberg's a pro who understands that a picture so brightly polished can't go too far wrong. So catch Catch Me If You Can if you can. If not, don't worry -- just pose as critic and call it a slight delight.