CAPSULE MOVIE REVIEWS: 3-21-25

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My Film Critic pants are on, my Film Critic suspenders have been adjusted, and I'm ready to review six new movies in this week's capsule (short) movie reviews for Friday, March 21st, 2025.

1) EEPHUS

Baseball movies have always had a way of capturing something bigger than the game itself. They aren't just about winning or losing—they're about time, memory, friendship, nostalgia, and sometimes, the slow, aching realization that your best playing days are behind you.

Carson Lund's Eephus is one of those rare films that truly understands the soul of baseball. It's about a ragtag group of weekend warriors playing the final game on their beloved, rundown field before it's bulldozed to make way for a school.

It's about the end of an era, the beginning of another, and the tiny, deeply personal dramas that unfold in the course of one last game. And it is, simply put, one of the best baseball movies I've ever seen.

This is a film steeped in the strange beauty of the sport—its rhythms, rituals, and unspoken codes. It takes place in a small Massachusetts town in the '90s, before smartphones and social media, when life still had room for long, aimless summer nights.

The game itself is between the Adler's Paint baseball team, captained by Ed Mortainian (Keith William Richards), and the Riverdogs, led by Graham Morris (Stephen Radochia). The cast is populated by a mix of first-time actors, character actors, and even real-life baseball players, all bringing an effortless authenticity to the film.

You can practically smell the sweat-stained jerseys and feel the grit of the infield dirt. The characters here are so well-drawn, so full of lived-in detail, that you get the sense that you've known them forever.

And let's talk about that title—Eephus. If you know baseball, you know the eephus pitch. It's that bizarre, high-arcing floater, slow as hell, seemingly effortless. It looks like a mistake, but it's a thing of beauty. It throws off batters, gets in their heads, and somehow, it works.

The movie itself is a lot like that pitch—it's subtle, it sneaks up on you, and before you know it, you're completely under its spell. One of the players even describes the eephus as something that "stays in the air forever" and makes a hitter "lose track of time." And that's precisely what this film does.

The game unfolds over one long day and stretches into the night, forcing players to turn on their car headlights to finish it. People wander in and out—old friends, kids on bikes, a guy from an Italian food truck (played, hilariously, by former Red Sox announcer Joe Castiglione). The umpire quits. The scorekeeper—a curmudgeonly old-timer who feels like a character straight out of The Odd Couple—calls balls and strikes. And all of it is beautifully, almost effortlessly captured by Lund's patient, unobtrusive camera.

There's no over-the-top drama here. No clichéd underdog story. No big, rousing speeches. Instead, we get quiet moments of melancholy comedy: a pitcher who's had too many beers and isn't sure if he can keep going, a guy who suddenly remembers he has to leave for a christening, a batter who's so old and stiff he can barely round the bases.

And yet, when the hits come, the runs score, and the eephus pitch is thrown just right—it's magical.

The performances are uniformly great. Keith William Richards (who was so good in Red Rocket) is perfect as Ed, a man who knows his prime is long gone but refuses to accept it. The legendary documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman provides the announcer's voice, giving the game an unexpected but oddly poetic narration. And Wayne Diamond—yes, the guy from Uncut Gems—is hilarious as Ed's sleazy brother.

What makes Eephus special is that it isn't just about baseball—it feels like baseball. It's messy and unpredictable, filled with weird characters and strange little detours. It's a reminder of what makes the game so timeless and mythic. It's about the simple joy of standing in the sun with your friends, talking trash, and playing a game that you love, even if your knees don't quite work the way they used to.

Lund directs with a relaxed confidence, allowing scenes to breathe, letting the humor and poignancy emerge naturally. It's beautifully shot, filled with the golden haze of a summer afternoon and the flickering glow of headlights illuminating the final innings. There's an almost ethereal quality to it, like a dream you don't want to wake up from.

Baseball is a game of failure—of missed swings, botched plays, and players who hold on just a little too long. But it's also a game of moments. And Eephus captures those moments—the fleeting magic of one last game, one last chance before the lights go out for good.

I love this movie. It's weird, wonderful, and unlike any sports film I've ever seen. It's deeply funny, unexpectedly moving, and, in its own strange way, profound. If you love baseball, you need to see this.

Hell, even if you don't love baseball, you should see it. Because at its core, Eephus isn't just about baseball. It's about life. And just like the best eephus pitch—it stays with you.

One of the best movies of the year. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

2) THE ASSESSMENT

Fleur Fortuné makes a striking feature-length directorial debut with The Assessment, a film that blends intense psychological drama, high-concept science fiction, and a deeply unsettling meditation on parenthood, free will, and the illusion of happiness.

This movie sneaks up on you, setting itself up as a simple examination of a couple's readiness for parenthood before morphing into something much bigger—something darker that lingers in your mind long after the credits roll.

This is speculative fiction done right. While it plays with futuristic elements, The Assessment never gets lost in the weeds of world-building. Instead, the film focuses on its lead characters' deeply personal and painfully relatable struggles, played with raw intensity by Elizabeth Olsen and Himesh Patel. Their journey is both harrowing and eerily plausible, making for a gripping and, at times, excruciatingly tense viewing experience.

In a near-future society where every aspect of life is tightly controlled, parenthood is no longer a right—it's a privilege that must be earned. Prospective parents must pass a rigorous evaluation, including written exams and a grueling, week-long live-in assessment administered by a government official known as "the assessor."

Mia (Elizabeth Olsen) and Aaryan (Himesh Patel) are a seemingly loving couple eager to start a family. But before bringing a child into the world, they must prove themselves through this government-mandated test. Enter Virginia (Alicia Vikander), an assessor who will push them to their absolute limits.

Over seven days, Virginia immerses herself in their home, challenging their parenting skills in bizarre, often disturbing ways. She even takes on the role of their hypothetical child, forcing them into increasingly uncomfortable and morally complex situations.

As the days progress, the tension within the couple reaches a boiling point. Long-buried secrets rise to the surface, resentments build, and the once-stable foundation of their relationship begins to crumble.

Virginia, relentless and enigmatic, ensures that no emotional wound remains unexposed. And just when you think the test couldn't get any more intrusive, it does. The couple's past is dissected in real-time, old lovers are brought in for an unsettling dinner party, and devastating truths about each partner come to light.

At its core, The Assessment is a chilling commentary on control—government control over our most basic rights, AI's role in shaping human behavior, and the control we attempt to exert over our lives, even as the world collapses.

Alicia Vikander delivers what is arguably her best performance since Ex Machina. As Virginia, she is clinical and calculating, a woman who appears to have buried every last ounce of empathy for the sake of doing her job.

She is both fascinating and terrifying—one moment a seemingly detached bureaucrat, the next an unsettlingly childlike figure, testing the couple's patience and mental stability. Watching her shift between these roles is a masterclass in acting, and Vikander sells every moment with chilling precision.

Elizabeth Olsen is extraordinary here. She has always had a knack for portraying unraveling characters (Martha Marcy May Marlene, Love & Death), but in The Assessment, her performance reaches another level.

Mia starts out as composed and hopeful, determined to pass this test no matter what. But as Virginia's methods become more invasive, Olsen peels back the layers of her character, revealing a woman grappling with profound existential and moral dilemmas.

Himesh Patel, equally excellent, plays Aaryan as a man whose patience and sanity are stretched to their absolute limit. His work in the film is subtle, relying heavily on restrained emotion and repressed frustration. He and Olsen have great chemistry, and their descent from a seemingly perfect couple into a fractured, paranoid duo is painful to watch.

And then there's Minnie Driver, who shows up in a single scene and absolutely owns it. She delivers some of the film's sharpest, funniest, and most cutting dialogue, proving once again that she's an actress who can steal a movie with just a few minutes of screen time.

While The Assessment is technically a science fiction film, it never gets bogged down in exposition or flashy futuristic details. We are given glimpses of a dystopian world—references to an "old world," hints of AI-driven societal restructuring, and the implications of a government that has taken reproductive rights to Orwellian extremes—but Fortuné wisely keeps these elements in the background.

And then there's the final act.

Without spoiling anything, I will say that the last 15 minutes of The Assessment are some of the most gripping, devastating, and thought-provoking moments I've seen in a film this year. Olsen and Vikander deliver a powerhouse finale that cements the film as more than an interesting sci-fi concept.

The only real issue with The Assessment is that some of its world-building feels underdeveloped. There are fascinating details about this future society—artificially created animals, references to a government-controlled procreation system—but they are never fully explored. At times, it feels like the film is using vague sci-fi elements as a backdrop rather than fully integrating them into the story.

But honestly? That's a minor complaint. The emotional core of The Assessment is so strong that the undercooked sci-fi details don't really matter.

The Assessment is a gripping, unsettling, and deeply thought-provoking film. It's a movie that gets under your skin, forcing you to ask big, uncomfortable questions. The performances are exceptional, the tension is razor-sharp, and the themes are timely and important. It may not be a perfect film, but it is a pretty unforgettable one. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

3) SNOW WHITE

There was absolutely no reason for this movie to exist. No one was asking for it. No one needed it. But here we are, and Snow White (2025) is yet another misguided, unnecessary, and deeply cynical live-action remake from Disney—a studio that, for the past decade or so, has been absolutely obsessed with churning out watered-down, creatively bankrupt versions of its classic animated films.

This time, they've managed to produce not only a soulless and unimaginative remake but also something that actively disrespects the legacy of the 1937 original—one of the most important films in animation history.

From the moment this project was announced, controversy surrounded it, and rightfully so. The casting decisions, the weird changes to the original story, Rachel Zegler's very public critiques of the original film, and Disney's bizarre insistence on making everything "modern" for the sake of it—it all pointed to a train wreck in the making.

And now that the film has finally arrived, it's safe to say that it is, in fact, a train wreck—an absolute mess—a disaster of massive proportions.

Let's start with the story—or at least, what's left of it. The classic Snow White story has been told in film at least 27 times, dating back to 1917. It's been adapted, reimagined, darkened, twisted, reworked, modernized, and reinterpreted countless times.

However, no matter how many versions exist, the 1937 Walt Disney animated film remains the definitive take. It's a beautifully animated, iconic, and groundbreaking piece of cinema history.

And now, thanks to director Marc Webb (500 Days of Summer, the disastrous Amazing Spider-Man movies) and writer Erin Cressida Wilson (The Girl on the Train), we get this—a film that butchers the original story, removes its heart, and replaces it with nothing but corporate-mandated nonsense.

In this version, Snow White (Rachel Zegler) is no longer a classic fairytale princess. She's been reworked into a modern, strong-willed leader who wants to liberate her kingdom from her evil stepmother's tyranny.

The Prince? Gone. Instead, we get a dope named Jonathan (Andrew Burnap), a "rebel" who, I guess, is supposed to be more relatable than a traditional Prince Charming. The Seven Dwarfs? They are completely reimagined as horrifying CGI monstrosities that look like they belong in The Mummy Returns or Cats.

And the Evil Queen? Gal Gadot—who, to put it nicely, delivers one of the flattest, most unconvincing villain performances in recent memory.

To be fair, Rachel Zegler has a stunning singing voice. She proved that in West Side Story, where she was fantastic. But here, she's ultimately let down by the material. Her version of Snow White is underwritten, uninteresting, and utterly forgettable. While she does her best, the writing gives her nothing to work with, resulting in a performance that never clicks.

If there was one aspect of this movie that could have saved it, it would have been a great villain performance. But instead, we get Gal Gadot in a role she is absolutely not suited for.

The Evil Queen is supposed to be menacing, powerful, and iconic. Gadot is none of those things. Her performance is stiff, lifeless, and utterly forgettable. She doesn't have the range, the screen presence, or the charisma to pull off a character this legendary, and the result is an antagonist who never feels remotely threatening.

And now, we have to talk about the Seven Dwarfs.

I don't know what Disney was thinking, but turning these beloved characters into CGI nightmares was a massive mistake. They are horrifying—Uncanny Valley abominations.

There's something genuinely disturbing about their designs—they look like they were lifted straight out of an experimental horror short that was abandoned halfway through production.

And, to make matters worse, they're also just annoying. They're not funny, they're not charming, and they don't add anything to the story. They are just… there.

Oh, and let's not forget Dopey, who—somehow—manages to look exactly like Alfred E. Neuman from Mad Magazine. Once you see it, you can't unsee it. And trust me, I wish I could unsee it.

This is a musical. So, you'd expect the musical numbers to at least be enjoyable, right? Wrong.

The gifted Mandy Moore handles the choreography, but it is wasted because the film is so shabbily shot and edited. The cinematography is uninspired, and the musical sequences lack energy.

The new songs? Terrible. Completely forgettable and lifeless. Even the classic songs from the original film ("Heigh-Ho" and "Whistle While You Work") have been butchered with awkward new verses that try to make them more "timely." It's a disaster all around.

Ultimately, Snow White (2025) is just another entry in Disney's never-ending series of live-action remakes that exist solely to make money. It offers nothing new or interesting, and worse, it actively ruins what made the original special.

From the horrifying CGI dwarfs to the lifeless performances to the terrible script, this movie fails in almost every possible way. The updates to the story don't work, nor do the modernized character arcs or musical numbers. Nothing about this movie works.

The sad thing is, we all knew this was going to happen. Disney has been on autopilot for years now, cranking out uninspired, creatively bankrupt remakes (The Lion King, The Little Mermaid, Dumbo, Aladdin) that do nothing but diminish the legacy of the original films. And Snow White is just the latest—and possibly worst—example of this.

I hated this movie. Absolutely hated it. It's soulless, lifeless, and downright painful to watch. Rachel Zegler's voice is beautiful, but it's not enough to save a film that is dead on arrival. Gal Gadot is miscast, the dwarfs are nightmare fuel, Andrew Burnap is the most annoying leading man ever, the songs are awful, and the story changes add nothing but frustration.

If you want to watch Snow White, do yourself a favor, skip this garbage, and rewatch the 1937 classic. It's a landmark piece of animation history.

This? This is just another corporate cash grab, one of the worst films of 2025, and it's so bad that it makes Snow White and the Three Stooges look like Citizen Kane. - ⭐️

4) LOCKED

Director David Yarovesky's latest film, Locked, is a sleek, high-concept thriller that takes a simple, single-location premise and attempts to stretch it into a feature-length ordeal of survival, tension, and psychological warfare. Unfortunately, despite a kind of fun lead performance from Bill Skarsgård and the presence (or at least voice) of Anthony Hopkins, the film ultimately feels like an overlong one-person stage play trapped inside a luxury SUV, never quite justifying its feature-length runtime.

This marks the third remake of 4x4, the 2019 Argentinian film that introduced this premise: a car thief breaks into what seems like an ordinary, high-end vehicle, only to realize that he's actually locked inside a technological death trap designed by someone with a serious vendetta against criminals.

In Locked, that thief is Eddie Barrish (Skarsgård), a streetwise carjacker who unwittingly steps into the twisted domain of William (Hopkins), a man who has decided to play judge, jury, and executioner in his own sadistic way. As Eddie struggles to escape, hunger, dehydration, and exhaustion start taking their toll, while the car itself—operated remotely by William—becomes a relentless prison, pushing him to his limits.

Now, I love a good, contained thriller. Movies like Buried (Ryan Reynolds trapped in a coffin) or 127 Hours (James Franco trapped under a boulder) have proven that, when executed properly, a film that takes place in one claustrophobic setting can be utterly gripping. However, the problem with Locked is that it doesn't have enough tricks up its sleeve to sustain interest for 95 minutes.

The concept is solid, but it quickly runs out of gas—pun intended—about halfway through, devolving into a repetitive cycle of Eddie screaming, the car lurching around unpredictably, and Hopkins delivering his villainous monologues like he's reading off a Post-it note.

Yarovesky, who previously directed Brightburn, knows how to create a polished-looking film, but his biggest flaw here is pacing. The movie starts strong, creating an intriguing mystery about who William is and why he's doing this.

But after about 30 minutes, it's clear that Locked is a one-trick pony. The film repeats the same beats repeatedly: Eddie tries something desperate to escape, the car reacts cruelly, Hopkins taunts him, repeat. By the time we get to the final act, we're just waiting for the inevitable conclusion, which isn't nearly as clever or satisfying as the filmmakers think it is.

It also doesn't help that the film takes itself way too seriously. A premise like this—where a high-tech luxury car becomes a torture device—has room for some dark humor or at least some self-awareness.

Imagine if Sam Raimi (Evil Dead, Drag Me to Hell), who produced this, had actually directed it. Instead of a repetitive, self-serious slog, we'd have a gnarly, fun, over-the-top thrill ride.

At the end of the day, Locked is an interesting idea that should have either been a tight 45-minute short film or handed off to a more playful, inventive filmmaker. As it stands, it's another forgettable survival thriller that wastes its talented lead actors and runs out of steam before it even gets into high gear.

If you're a die-hard Skarsgård fan or want to hear Anthony Hopkins mail in a villainous role for the umpteenth time, then maybe check it out when it hits streaming. Otherwise, you're better off revisiting Buried, 127 Hours, or any number of far superior claustrophobic thrillers.

Locked in a car? More like locked in boredom. - ⭐️1/2

5) ASH

In theory, a sci-fi horror movie called Ash, directed by an experimental music artist like Flying Lotus, sounds cool. Add a stylish space station, some paranoia, and a great cast that includes Eiza González and Aaron Paul, and it sounds like the setup to something really interesting—maybe even daring.

But sadly, Ash is the exact opposite of interesting or daring. It's a derivative, shallow, wannabe arthouse horror movie that tries desperately to ape the styles and sensibilities of way better filmmakers while forgetting to bring along any real story, scares, or originality of its own.

The setup is simple: on a distant planet, astronaut Riya (played by Eiza González) wakes up on a ship and discovers that the rest of her crew is dead. She has no memory of what happened, just nightmarish flashes and cryptic images.

Eventually, she's joined by Brion (Aaron Paul), a fellow astronaut who the crew believed was dead and who might not be who—or what—he seems. The two of them try to make sense of what's happened while navigating the increasingly tense atmosphere of the ship and their own shattered memories.

Meanwhile, a bunch of weird tech chirps in the background, and floating ash fills the air outside like creepy space snow.

Sounds intriguing on paper, right? The problem is that Ash borrows every single idea and visual cue from other, far better movies.

There's Alien all over this thing—especially if you remember what "Ash" means in Ridley Scott's Alien. There's a ton of Event Horizon in the creepy corridors and jump-scare imagery, and you can practically see Flying Lotus flipping through Carpenter's The Thing shot by shot.

Throw in some Ghosts of Mars, a spoonful of Cronenberg body horror, a completely inappropriate dash of The Cell, and even a little Dario Argento lighting and intensity, and you've got… well, a hot mess. A music video masquerading as a movie.

Flying Lotus (who also scored the film with mixed results) is clearly influenced by all the right stuff, but that's the issue: he doesn't do anything new with any of it. It's all flash, zero substance.

Sure, there's style, but it's stolen style. And even the style doesn't feel coherent. Sometimes, the music is pulsing and effective; sometimes, it's mellow and moody; and sometimes, it just feels like background noise with no rhythm or consistency.

Performance-wise? Not much better. Eiza González looks great on screen and has a strong presence, but she's stuck playing a one-note amnesiac with very little personality or depth. Her character is underwritten, underdeveloped, and completely predictable.

The entire "twist" about who she is and what really happened—spoiler alert—is telegraphed from the opening credits. No surprises here.

Then there's Aaron Paul, who comes in hot—like, really hot. From his first scene, he's playing it at an intensity level of about 14 on a scale of 1 to 10. His eyes are wide and jittery, and every line is shouted or whispered with deadly seriousness. It's like someone told him he was starring in a completely different movie.

And the twist with his character is so obvious that anyone familiar with Alien (again, think about that name: "Ash") will have it pegged long before the movie gets there.

Now, the last 15 minutes of the movie do deliver some legitimately great gore. There's a splatter-fest finale that, as a horror fan, I appreciated. There's blood, guts, and goo everywhere, and it's done practically and effectively. If only the rest of the film had that kind of energy or creativity. But alas, it's too little, too late.

The biggest surprise? The absurdly funny Japanese-speaking robotic medical drones and scanners are the best part of the movie and the only part that made me sit up and smile.

These little gadgets, with their "sorry for your loss" messages and sad music when a body scan reveals someone is dead, are hilarious. They offer the only moments of levity, charm, or originality in a movie otherwise drowning in cliché and empty atmosphere.

Look, I get it. Ash wants to be moody, artistic, slow-burn horror with heavy sci-fi themes about memory, identity, and the morality of artificial life. But none of it lands. The story is thin. The characters are paper. The twists are predictable. And the direction feels like cosplay for film school.

So yeah, it's got cool lighting. Some of the spaceship interiors are stylish. And there's blood at the end. But Ash never comes alive. It's as cold, lifeless, and phony as the spaceship it's set in—and honestly, if I never see another "mysterious lone survivor on a spaceship who might be crazy" movie again, I'll be just fine.

Big disappointment. One of the year's weakest genre entries so far. - ⭐️1/2

6) THE ALTO KNIGHTS

There was a time when the names Barry Levinson, Nicholas Pileggi, and Robert De Niro attached to a mob movie would have been cause for genuine excitement. A director with Academy Award-winning prestige, a writer who helped craft Goodfellas, and one of the greatest actors to ever play a gangster—on paper, The Alto Knights should have been something special.

Instead, we get a derivative, tired, and completely unnecessary mobster flick that coasts on past glory and proves just how far the mighty have fallen.

From the moment this film went into production, it reeked of desperation. The Alto Knights was originally titled Wise Guys, a name so generic it felt like a bad parody of the genre. The project had been kicking around Hollywood for decades, passed on by every major studio until Warner Bros. finally decided to take a shot at it.

And now, after numerous delays, a behind-the-scenes struggle to get it made, and a bizarre last-minute title change, the finished product feels like a movie that just shouldn't exist.

The story follows the infamous mob war between Vito Genovese and Frank Costello, two real-life Italian-American crime bosses. Genovese (De Niro) orders a hit on Costello (also De Niro), but Costello survives and ultimately decides to retire from the mafia.

That's the core of the plot, and while there are, of course, additional complications and scheming family members looking to take advantage, this is a movie that never rises above its basic premise.

Mob stories have been done so many times before—and done brilliantly (The Godfather, Goodfellas, The Untouchables, The Irishman). Something fresh had to be brought to the table for The Alto Knights to stand out. Instead, it lazily recycles every mob movie trope in the book, and worst of all, it executes them with absolutely no energy or passion.

The biggest talking point of The Alto Knights—and its biggest failure—is the decision to have De Niro play both Vito Genovese and Frank Costello. It's an absurd gimmick that never works. Maybe—maybe—if this were a younger De Niro in his prime, he could have pulled it off. But watching an 80-year-old De Niro awkwardly try to differentiate between these two characters is laughable.

The movie relies heavily on makeup and other effects, but they aren't enough to distract from the fact that it's the same guy playing both roles, and that fact is incredibly distracting.

Every time the two of them are on screen together, you can't help but think, Why did they do this? It adds nothing to the story and takes away from any sense of realism or authenticity.

The dual role isn't just a poor creative choice—it's a desperate attempt to sell this movie as unique. But it's not unique—it's just bad.

Barry Levinson has directed some good movies (Diner, Wag the Dog, Tin Men, Bugsy - which was really directed by Warren Beatty), but I've always found him wildly overrated. And this movie doesn't change that opinion. His direction is lifeless, the pacing is sluggish, and the film feels far too long. There's no spark, no grit—just a tired, by-the-numbers mob flick that feels like it was directed on autopilot.

Then there's Nicholas Pileggi, who wrote Goodfellas and Casino, but this script feels like a copy-paste job of every mafia movie cliché imaginable. It lacks the sharpness and insight of his earlier work, and honestly, it feels like something he could have written in his sleep.

The supporting cast? Completely wasted. Debra Messing as Frank Costello's wife? Outside of a few funny moments, she barely registers. Michael Rispoli as Albert Anastasia? Forgettable. The only performance that's really worth mentioning is Kathrine Narducci as Vito's wife, Anna Genovese, and even she doesn't get nearly enough to do.

One of the most frustrating things about The Alto Knights is that it tells a story that's been covered so many times in better movies, TV shows, and documentaries.

If you want to learn about the real Vito Genovese and Frank Costello, there are countless other places to do it. This movie doesn't add anything new. It just rehashes old material without any originality or excitement.

When a movie starring Robert De Niro, written by Nicholas Pileggi, and directed by Barry Levinson is released in March, you know something's wrong. If it were any good, a movie like this would have been positioned for a fall release around Oscar season.

But The Alto Knights is being released in March, a dumping ground for movies studios don't believe in. Warner Bros. knows they have a dud on their hands, and they're hoping it just quietly disappears.

The Alto Knights is one of the dullest, most uninspired mob movies in years. It coasts on the reputations of its cast and crew, but it has nothing new to say, no energy, and no reason to exist. De Niro's dual role is a total gimmick that fails miserably, Levinson's direction is lifeless, and Pileggi's script is a rehash of better work he's done before.

If you're looking for a real mob movie, go watch Goodfellas. Go watch The Irishman. Hell, go watch The Sopranos for the 50th time. But The Alto Knights? Skip it. It's a desperate, gimmicky mess that proves that sometimes, great filmmakers and actors should just leave the past in the past. - ⭐️1/2

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