Is it me or is there a palpable frustration and puzzlement in American culture towards “liars,” not just any liars, but “really big liars”? To an extent, Blue Jasmine is a rumination on the ring of deception attached to liars a-la-Madoff. The basic premise of the film is that we are thrust into the interior life of the glamorous and desperate Jasmine (Cate Blanchet) on the heels of financial ruin stemming from the fraudulent practices of her slick hedge fund speculating husband, Hal (Alec Baldwin). Writer/Director Woody Allen and longtime Casting Director Juliet Taylor assemble a terrific cast of character actors led by the arresting Blanchet with wonderful performances by Baldwin, Sally Hawkins, Andrew “Dice” Clay, Louis C.K. and Bobby Cannavale. The film trains on the entangled lives Hawkins and Blanchet share as non-biological sisters when a down and out Jasmine comes to stay in Hawkins’s modest San Francisco home. Hawkins' Ginger presents a stark contrast to Blanchet's self-important, fraying Jasmine as a quirky, unvarnished and subtly resilient working class divorcé raising two boys. The sisters literal and figurative fortunes rise and fall relative to lessons learned (or not) to provide an unnerving glimpse into a fact of life: this is not a dress rehearsal and some of us are shoddy performers (plain old bullshitters). Blanchet undoubtedly deserves an Oscar nomination for her startling portrayal of the deeply flawed Jasmine who swigs vodka, pops pills and indulges untenable fantasies to ignore her penchant for self-deception (bullshit). For some, ruin and requisite exposure is the only antidote to pathological deception. Thus, as the film exposes Jasmine’s crumbling interior, for a period we envisage the unglamorous truth within a shoddy performer by a truly consummate actor.