Why are financial criminals in films seen differently? Or rather, shown differently?
Have you ever had a family member who was dealt an unfair hand because someone else simply wanted to steal money? Someone who spent years saving, only to lose everything because of someone’s clever con?
These aren’t fictitious situations. They’re real experiences for countless people. Families lose life savings. People are forced onto the streets. Marriages break down. Retirement plans disappear. Sometimes, a single fraudulent investment changes the course of an entire family’s life.
Yet, when films tell stories about money fraud, these consequences are often pushed to the background. Not always, but often enough to notice. And many of these films are made by celebrated directors, starring some of the biggest actors in the world.
Usually, the ending attempts to restore some moral balance. The con artist is arrested. Or becomes an informant. Or loses everything they built. Justice eventually does catch up. But the journey before that ending is often where things become interesting. The life of the con artist is frequently presented with style, charisma and excitement. The audience isn’t simply watching the character. At times, they’re almost invited to admire them.
Let’s dive into it.
Take the American film Boiler Room (2000) written and directed by Ben Younger. Seth Davis joins a brokerage firm that is essentially a “chop shop,” selling worthless stocks through manipulation and deception. One of the people he scams is Harry Reynard, a purchasing manager who eventually invests his life savings after Seth repeatedly convinces him to buy more. Harry loses everything. His wife leaves him, taking their children with her. The film does acknowledge the destruction Seth causes. His own father tells him that he’s “destroying people’s lives,” and guilt ultimately pushes Seth to turn against the firm. But before reaching that point, the audience spends much of the film watching the thrill of fast money, expensive suits, luxury cars and the intoxicating confidence that comes with easy wealth.
Taking things further is Jordan Belfort, who builds an empire through stock manipulation, fraud and relentless deception in Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street (2013). The film never hides his crimes, but it also surrounds them with mansions, yachts, drugs, parties and limitless wealth. Leonardo DiCaprio’s magnetic performance makes Jordan incredibly entertaining to watch. Even as audiences understand that he’s a criminal, there’s no denying how cinematic, energetic and, at moments, attractive that lifestyle appears. By the time the legal consequences arrive, it feels too late.
Similarly, Steven Spielberg’s Catch Me If You Can (2002) follows Frank Abagnale Jr., who impersonates a pilot, a doctor and even a lawyer while forging millions of dollars in checks. Frank cons people repeatedly, yet his intelligence, confidence and charm become the focus of the film. By the end, audiences often remember Frank’s brilliance more vividly than the financial victims he leaves behind. This might feel slightly different, given that it’s based on a real person’s life, but the choice of portrayal using dramatic music, heightening emotion through amazing shots is one’s own.
American films like Ocean’s Eleven (2001) and Focus (2015) follow a similar pattern. Danny Ocean is released from prison and almost immediately begins assembling a team to execute one of cinema’s most iconic casino heists. Will Smith plays Nicky, a master con artist whose greatest weapon isn’t violence but charm. You’d either want to be with these characters or be like them. You’d want to do anything but condone their actions. Rather, you’re most likely rooting for them.
Indian cinema has its own examples. Bunty Aur Babli (2005), directed by Shaad Ali and written by Jaideep Sahni, follows two ambitious small-town dreamers who become celebrity scam artists, pulling off elaborate cons across the country. Their adventures are energetic, humorous and filled with style. The victims, on the other hand, rarely become the emotional centre of the story.
An interesting contrast comes from the Indian film Special 26 (2013) written and directed by Neeraj Pandey. Although its protagonists impersonate CBI officers and execute elaborate robberies, the film largely targets corrupt businessmen, politicians and tax evaders. The audience is encouraged to view these crimes through a different moral lens. Whether one agrees with that framing or not, the film spends more time asking who deserves to be cheated than simply celebrating the act of cheating itself.
Perhaps that’s why films about financial crimes feel different from films about other violent crimes.
When someone commits murder on screen, the victim’s suffering is almost impossible to ignore. But financial crimes rarely produce immediate visual consequences, hence, the feeling is delayed. A fraudulent stock deal isn’t cinematic in itself. The aftermath, a family losing their home, children changing schools, someone spending years recovering financially, is quieter. Less dramatic. Easier to leave off-screen.
Instead, films often focus on what is cinematic, the intelligence behind the scam, the confidence, the luxury, the private jets and the adrenaline of getting away with it. Of course, cinema has every right to tell these stories. Films aren’t instruction manuals, nor are they required to become moral lectures. Great stories have always explored flawed, immoral and complicated characters. That’s part of what makes them compelling. And that is what freedom of making a film is.
But it does raise an interesting question.
Can we enjoy Jordan Belfort’s charisma without admiring his actions? Can we laugh with Frank Abagnale while remembering the people he deceived? Can we cheer for Danny Ocean’s impossible heist while acknowledging that someone, somewhere beyond the casino owner, ultimately pays the price? If audiences walk away remembering the swag more than the suffering, has the portrayal unintentionally shifted the weight of the crime?
Maybe that’s simply the nature of cinema. Charismatic people make for better protagonists, even if they’re criminals. Because the damage caused by money fraud unfolds quietly, perhaps that’s why the con artist often becomes the hero of the story. And the people whose lives were ruined remain in the background, invisible.
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