
Legend movie review: badfellas
Tom Hardy is fab, but this is GoodFellas-lite, depicting violent sociopaths as glamorous, even amusing, and lacking all understanding of what made them tick.

Tom Hardy is fab, but this is GoodFellas-lite, depicting violent sociopaths as glamorous, even amusing, and lacking all understanding of what made them tick.

Guy Ritchie’s spy-themed GQ fashion shoot. Pure popcorn nonsense, sleek and chic and vaguely funny, but instantly forgettable.

A brilliant, hilarious, exhilarating look at the Gore Vidal v. William F. Buckley paradigm-busting 1968 debates that changed TV journalism for the worse.

It gets a tad heavy-handed, but my eyes welled with tears of geeky joy at the film’s embrace of an optimism it steadfastly refuses to see as old-fashioned.

A grownup storybook of a movie spun out of candy-colored nonsense that challenges you to embrace its falseness and deny its romance.

A beautiful film, and a mysterious one. I don’t quite know what to make of it, but I have been seduced by its evasive intrigue.

A magnificent film, vital and alive, with the most profound sense of immediacy I think I’ve ever felt in a historical story.

Solid biopic of the godfather of funk and soul, but there’s not much genuinely memorable about it beyond Chadwick Boseman’s stunning breakout performance.

This biopic of “fashion’s little prince” offers all the elegant precision of a fashion shoot — it’s beautiful, and cold — but lacks a lot of necessary context.

Director Clint Eastwood’s discomfort with his own material is enormous and obvious. Does he just not get pop music, or is he actively disdainful and suspicious of it?