AMSTERDAM. A Conspiracy Against America

Armies have long since withdrawn from Europe’s battlefields, but even in America, the echoes of World War I can still be heard. Burt (Christian Bale) once served as a doctor on the front lines in France and now runs a surgical practice in New York. His services are primarily directed at veterans who, like him, suffered deeply and received little support from the state. Burns, poorly healed limbs, gunshot wounds—these are part of Burt’s daily routine, but also his mission and calling. He lost an eye in the military, and a brace now supports his crooked body to keep him upright. Amsterdam is another complex and vivid role for the Welsh actor—physically battered, eccentric by nature, and scarred by life. For Bale, this isn’t a desperate cry for another Oscar nod, but simply his working method.

Burt’s demanding but somewhat routine life is interrupted by an unusual request passed along by Harold (the ever-composed and statuesque John David Washington): a lawyer, his closest friend, and of course, a fellow soldier. The surgeon is asked to perform an autopsy on a very influential general who died unexpectedly while returning by ship from Europe to New York. The general’s daughter suspects murder—and appears to have information that could endanger her own life. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, and the situation feels truly tense.

The characters remain haunted by memories of war, their bodies still marked by scars. But now, in the 1930s, troubling news from Europe begins to trickle in again. For the film’s central trio—Burt, Harold, and Valerie (Margot Robbie)—bound by a friendship pact, their shared happy place is the Dutch capital, where they spent carefree months before returning to the States. Each went their own way, but fate isn’t done with them yet and will force them back into action.

David O. Russell (of The Fighter and American Hustle) once again assembled an all-star cast—add to the above Robert De Niro, Chris Rock, Anya Taylor-Joy, and Rami Malek—but it’s the script and the crime plot that elevate Amsterdam, as it climbs steadily through the ranks of American elites. One thread leads to another. The lack of police credentials is a clear obstacle for the protagonists, but connections and chance can work wonders. Russell skillfully unveils the political mechanisms, soft tools of influence, and emotional manipulation at play. It’s never really about national security or “patriotism,” but rather private interests. The former are just covers and marketing slogans; the latter are ruthless, uncompromising facts.

Amsterdam impresses with its ideological clarity. Armed conflicts are one thing, but what really calls the shots is opportunism and big business. It decides when and against whom tanks are deployed. Global corporations determine who plays the aggressor and who the victim. And of course, there’s money to be made on both sides. In the grander scheme, Russell is interested in the clash between power and the people, but he also incorporates various social disputes and misunderstandings. Racial tensions resurface, but even more pressing are the class divides—between those with resources and those without. The director takes us through gilded palaces, Burt’s shabby office, affluent suburban neighborhoods, and urban back alleys.

Heavy themes—veterans’ suffering, layered conspiracies, social unrest, and an uncertain future.The times are grim (the entire film is shot in dim tones and sepia), but Russell’s goal is to lift the audience’s spirits. Not by pointing to lights at the end of tunnels, but by affirming what one has, what one’s been through, and who one’s crossed paths with. The director seeks out what’s good and valuable in people—Burt’s determination, Harold’s loyalty, Valerie’s trust, Gil’s (Robert De Niro) nonconformity. According to Russell’s idealistic perspective, sometimes (maybe always?) these qualities are enough to preserve the proper order of things—no matter how uneven the fight.