The Hustle proves to be a pale imitation of the Michael Caine/Steve Martin classic it is based on, relying too much on duplication and refusing to create its own identity.

The Hustle seems like it was a fun movie to shoot. Remaking a 1980s comedy favourite, at exotic locales, with two talented female leads, would have given much in the way of a “fun time” on set. Yet like most movies that are “fun to make”, The Hustle proves to be anything but. Directed by Chris Addison (from TV’s Veep), this remake of the 1988 comedy classic Dirty Rotten Scoundrels takes its directive a little too seriously. There is little in the way of surprises here (a no-no for a grifter movie) or genuine laugh out loud humour. This is thanks to the filmmaker’s insistence on making a near copy of the film it is based on, and while Anne Hathaway and Rebel Wilson are indeed talented, they simply cannot match what Michael Caine and Steve Martin achieved.

The set-up is simple: two con-women of different taste and style, Josephine (Anne Hathaway) and Penny (Rebel Wilson) compete in a challenge of who can fleece $500,000 from hapless tech millionaire Thomas (Alex Sharp). The winner gets to lay claim to a European hotspot clamouring with rich idiots just waiting to get suckered into a money stealing scheme.

It is often a rule of mine not to compare remakes to its source material, The Hustle made that impossible. The films structure, comedy scenarios, and even certain lines of dialogue, has been duplicated into a pale imitation of a movie it so hopes it can replicate but fails in doing so. Addison and company have a strong affection for Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Needed was more originality as opposed to slavish adherence. A great remake is just like a great cover song: it needs its own personality to shine. The Hustle is void of any such thing, and the lack of laughs does not help either.

Hathaway and Wilson seem to have fun with their roles. But it just does not translate. As con artists neither actor is convincing. Hathaway’s barrage of accents come off incredibly clumsy. Meanwhile Wilson’s shtick becomes very old, very fast. Worst of the lot is Alex Sharp, who brings very little to the table as the hapless mark. It is such a charmless and vanilla performance, that it makes the whole process of watching him “worked over” by the films con-women a pointless exercise.

And such is the best way to describe The Hustle: a remake of little spirit or purpose, save perhaps to con the cinema going audience of their hard-earned.