Steven Spielberg makes an engrossing conman comedy, with Leonardo DiCaprio supplying the charm and Christopher Walken the hurt. The pursuit is a pleasure, though 141 minutes gives the sentiment more space than it needs.
Catch Me If You Can is a funny, generous crime film, and we recommend it despite its occasional insistence on explaining feelings the actors have already made clear. Steven Spielberg asks us to enjoy a teenage conman’s nerve before considering what might drive it. Jeff Nathanson’s screenplay gives the frauds plenty of attention, but keeps returning to Frank’s family. Leonardo DiCaprio plays Frank Abagnale Jr., with Tom Hanks as the pursuing FBI agent, Carl Hanratty.
DiCaprio understands how little separates the confidence to pass as somebody else from the desperate hope of being believed. His Frank is persuasive enough to make the impersonations pleasurable, yet young enough that we remain aware of the effort involved. We laughed at how readily we accepted him as a pilot; DiCaprio’s assurance had us doing much the same work as the people being fooled. The cheque fraud gives that charm a practical use, and the performance never needs to underline how clever it is.
Hanks is useful precisely because he does not compete for that charm. His generous supporting performance makes Hanratty worth watching even when we are impatient to get back to Frank. The agent’s interest in the young man gradually matters as much as the business of catching him, without requiring either actor to advertise the change. In a caper, the pursuer can become a nuisance between the enjoyable bits; here, we are happy to spend time with him.
Walken’s Frank Abagnale is the strongest reason to take the family scenes seriously. He gives the father enough warmth for us to understand the son’s attachment, while allowing the relationship to remain uncomfortable. Spielberg and Nathanson occasionally push the explanation too far, as though a family connection could account for every deception. Walken does more useful work by making the father’s importance felt without asking us to settle everything we think about him.
Janusz Kamiński’s glossy photography makes the period settings inviting, which helps us understand why Frank wants admission to them. Jeannine Oppewall’s production design and Mary Zophres’s costumes give the 1960s settings a convincing respectability. The pilot impersonation makes the connection between appearance and authority particularly clear. The clothes and surroundings help the fraud seem possible, so the period detail keeps doing useful work even while we are enjoying looking at it.
John Williams’s jazz score makes the chase playful without draining away its suspense, and the animated opening credits establish that lightness early. Michael Kahn’s editing keeps the impersonations moving briskly enough that their success feels plausible while we are watching. The problem is the accumulation: at 141 minutes, the film has more business than it needs. Individual passages remain lively, but the urge to include another detail gradually makes us notice how long we have been following Frank.
Caper films often treat skill as sufficient reason to like a thief. Spielberg wants us to care about this one, and his actors make that attachment feel earned even when the script presses too hard. We would happily choose their company again. Just do not choose it for a quick watch before bed.
