Much of what happens in "The Infiltrator," a smart, engrossing, fact-based glimpse into the 1980s world of Colombian drug trafficking and money laundering, is bookended by two tracking shots of two different sting operations in progress, both framed from the back of a man's head.
The camera snakes its way forward from this limited vantage, following the man-he goes by Robert Mazur or Bob Musella, depending on who's asking-as he strides purposefully toward an uncertain fate. It's a stylistic choice that frames the central riddle of this character study in arresting visual terms: Who is this guy, really, and what does he know that we don't?
These are not questions we can readily answer the first time we meet Mazur, a U.S. Customs Service special agent who helped take a bite out of the Medellin cartel in 1986 by passing himself off as Bob Musella, a businessman who laundered money for some of the most trusted associates in Pablo Escobar's lucrative criminal empire.
That would be Bryan Cranston, wringing fresh variations on the family-man decency and treacherous ambition he merged so brilliantly in "Breaking Bad."
If you loved him (or loved hating him) as a mild-mannered chemistry teacher turned Machiavellian drug impresario, it's a kick to see him once more in the grip of a work-driven, family-endangering identity crisis-only this time on the side of law and order, as if he were atoning for the sins of a past life.
Which is only fitting, because the true subject of "The Infiltrator," adapted from Mazur's 2009 memoir, isn't really the war on drugs or the sick soul of '80s materialism. Like a version of "American Hustle" played brutally straight, this is, first and foremost, a movie about acting; it's about the thrill of donning a dangerous persona and embracing it to the hilt, and then slowly, grimly realizing that you may have played your part rather too well.
It takes Mazur some time and a lot of practice before he masters the role of Musella-a friendly, flamboyant shark in expensive suits, Italian shoes and a Rolls-Royce-with enough slippery confidence to laugh and cajole his way into the cartel's pockets. Indeed, it would be hard to imagine a more drastic change of personality or a more reckless gamble for Mazur, a modest-living Florida family man who loves his wife (Juliet Aubrey) and their two kids, and who easily could have chosen early retirement instead.
But Cranston doesn't try to explain or psychoanalyze Mazur's decision to stay in the game and kick it up a notch. He doesn't need to. The man we see, whether he's awkwardly lying his way out of a brothel hookup or fiddling deftly with his tape-recorder-equipped suitcase, is not a natural actor (that will come later). But he is a born operative, a compulsive workaholic who hurls himself with complete abandon into the chase.
After a slick wardrobe overhaul (courtesy of costume designer Dinah Collin) and the temporary acquisition of some choice luxury goods and real estate, Mazur begins to trot out Musella for the benefit of the cartel's prominent players-embarking on a journey that will take him from the boardroom of the corrupt Bank of Credit and Commerce International to a killer's blood-spattered lair.
Mazur gets an assist from his colleague Emir Abreu (John Leguizamo), who has already gone undercover as a scuzzy, low-level operator in Escobar's operation and whose methods he doesn't initially trust. "I like to work alone," he grumbles more than once, but acting is of course a collaborative art, and Mazur winds up doing some of his finest work with his supporting players, including a tough ex-con friend, Dominic (Joseph Gilgun), who's sprung from prison to provide a convincing front for the operation, and Mazur's trusty, talkative aunt Vicky (Olympia Dukakis), who's delighted to play a role in the proceedings. Most crucially, there is Kathy Ertz (Diane Kruger), a rookie undercover agent who is tasked with playing Musella's fiancee.
Tellingly, the erotic charge coursing between these two characters finds release not through sex but through the element of daring improvisation it brings out in their deception. And therein lies the true appeal of Mazur's story, as intoxicating to witness as it must have been for him to experience: the dark thrill of acting without a safety net.
'THE INFILTRATOR' Rating: R, for strong violence, language throughout, some sexual content and drug material. Running time: 2 hours, 7 minutes.