the first 30 minutes was… fine, and it was quite an experience watching housework while doing housework, but then as the minutes dragged on I felt a quiet desperation, the sense that there was another 3 hours, that it would never end, that for her who lived perpetually in the movie this mundane, circular, and profound boredom would never end
In terms of cast, it has to be said that Gary Oldman looks nothing like Herman Mankiewicz. The olde visuals seem to be the main reason to watch this film, and its this smokey, shadowy, cigarette-burnt, ’40s aesthetic that’s the film’s only positive. The fact that a film about a writer (which intermittently includes script elements) isn’t particularly well written is ironic to say the least. This is basically another love letter to Hollywood’s “great past like Quentin Tarantino‘s similarly critically overrated shite-fest OUATIH. It's a black and white ode to a period of time that only a select few give a toss about; it’s made for film students, cinephiles, and pompous critics.