A bad Scorsese movie is a depressing experience, and this was soaringly bad.
And then Danny Huston turned up and it just descended into beyond bad. This bloke sinks, or further buries, so many motion pictures you begin to wonder what goods he has on directors.
Pointless pish that must have cost a fucking fortune, it feels like a movie that Scorsese was contractually obligated to make, because I see no other reason for this lightweight embarrassment to exist.
I’ve had more interesting adventures in a B&M than this biopic of Howard Hughes.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 