Michael Collins (1996) is an almost masterpiece.

A stirring slice of still-contentious Irish history masquerading as a thriller, this is a biopic meets The Godfather (1972).

Tywin Lannister is in it. As is Julia Roberts with the worst ‘Irish’ accent since … the birth of cinema. But she doesn’t ruin it; her role is window dressing, a star name to pump up the box office. 

Its like the anti-Richard Attenborough biopic, and thank the gods his perfunctory talents were never let near this kind of material. 

Oppenheimer also turns up as an assassin. And the poster is sublime. 

4/5. 

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