Reviews

I really can't say much a) that hasn't been said before b) as I switched it off after 36 minutes. Two things stood out: You don't have to be woke to find the African American sidekick a cringe inducing stereotype. When the small town movie theater marquee featured "Nosferatu," film schools have ruined everything. Overall a poor, cynical, and schlocky-and not in a good way.

I stuck through it to the end, but realized that it left a bad taste the more I thought about it. Demerits in random order: Absolutely unintelligible dialog. Netflix movies seem especially prone to muddy soundtracks, but the director probably insisted that the actors whisper whenever possible. I had to stop and run the thing back a minute or two every so often to capture plot points. No, I didn't read the novel and certainly don't plan to now that I've seen what they made of it, but if anyone asked what the actors' motivations are, it would have to be to showcase the blood spatter explosion special effects skills of the technical crew. And while we're on the subject, how is it that the police lieutenant and the lead character saunter home for a quiet family dinner after what would have been one of the most spectacular police gun battles in American history? Yeah, they seemed a bit down after a difficult day at work, but no intense after-action debriefings? No media clamor? No up the wazoo police paperwork? Note to casting: Just because you like the physical appearance of one of the leads, please don't make him and his dramatic foil look almost exactly the same. In short, one of those movies that demonstrates why Netflix needs to get over itself and ask "What Would Irving Thalberg Do?" before serving up overwrought yet underbaked cinematic casseroles to the global subscribing public.

This movie showing its age after 800 years. Visually, it's completely static and claustrophobic. The script is densely wordy, yet no one on this thread has identified any quotable lines.

In terms of plot and story arc, it plays as if Stanley Kramer did the middle ages, with a lot of anachronistic business about ethnic/class differences, separation of church and state, and the corruptions of power. Despite the set piece tension between the supposedly Saxon Becket and the Norman Richard, it turns out that the real, historical Becket, too was a Norman. Never mind!

As for the acting, get ready for some of the most egregious scenery chewing in Hollywood history. Peter O'Toole is particularly guilty of a when-in-doubt-shout performance. When he gazes guiltily up to heavens, he clearly must be thinking of the soul destroying self betrayals required to win an Oscar. I'm sure that's the hidden meaning behind the penance scenes.