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Why Does Hollywood Celebrate Fraudsters Who Rip Us Off?

Movies like “The Wolf of Wall Street” have but one message: Take the money and run.

Photo Credit: Paramount Pictures


Editor's Note: This is the latest from Lynn Parramore's ongoing series, "The Age of Fraud," part of AlterNet's New Economic Dialogue Project.

Margot Robbie, who plays the wife of hard-partying stock swindler Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street, explains in an interview how Martin Scorsese bamboozles the audience into cheering a morally repugnant man:

“Often, you know, the protagonist, the hero of the story is a bad guy, but you’re on his side the whole way. And everyone else, too, like, they’re not really technically portrayed as good people in the film, but you’re still on their side. They’re breaking the law and you want them to get a way with it. It’s kind of amazing that he can position the audience to feel that way about characters who are blatantly doing horrible things. It’s great though. It’s fun!”

For three hours, Belfort, portrayed with manic intensity by Leonardo DiCaprio, lies, humps and snorts his way through a binge of fraud and frolic that would make Gordon Gekko, and possibly a few Roman emperors, blush. Belfort starts out hustling penny stocks, selling “garbage to garbage men,” but quickly works his way up from screwing over poor people to ripping off wealthy investors, using the proceeds to hire truckloads of hookers and dwarves used for target practice at office parties (seriously!).

Not everyone was amused. In an open letter to Scorsese and DiCaprio, Christina McDowell, the daughter of one of Belfort’s partners in crime, describes the emotional pain and financial ruin she suffered as a teen when the dad she believed in turned out to be a crook. She doesn’t mince words about the treatment of the Belfort saga in the film:

“So here's the deal. You people are dangerous. Your film is a reckless attempt at continuing to pretend that these sorts of schemes are entertaining, even as the country is reeling from yet another round of Wall Street scandals. We want to get lost in what? These phony financiers' fun sexcapades and coke binges? Come on, we know the truth. This kind of behavior brought America to its knees. And yet you're glorifying it—you who call yourselves liberals.”

She’s got a point. Why does Hollywood celebrate financial fraudsters when just about the entire country has been victimized by them?

One Nation Under Fraud

The idea that we can reinvent ourselves and shimmy up the social and economic ladder runs deep in American culture, tapped most famously in The Great Gatsby (recently adapted in a film starring DiCaprio, whose roles as the conman-charmer include the fictional Jay Gatsby and Frank Abagnale, the real-life forger of Catch Me if You Can). It’s as old as the canny Dutch traders who finagled their way into property in early New Amsterdam and morphed into America’s social elite. We’re a country founded in no small part by smugglers, pirates, slavers, and financial fraudsters of every description.

But unlike the case of Australia, our religious traditions run almost as deep as our worship of money. Puritan preachers and historians threw a cloak of morality over this festival of flimflam and taught us that he who has the money must be favored by God — a god who eventually took on a code name: the Market. Guided by an invisible hand, the West was settled and the railroads were built and if large numbers of people were hustled — or worse — in the process, at least we had a shot at upward mobility amid the ruckus. So the story went.

Certainly this tradition explains part of our fascination — and acceptance — of con artists. But Hollywood added its own hypnotic magic to the mix.