Somewhere within this overlong and overwrought 149 minutes slog laid a genuinely interesting and possibly emotionally intense story that deserved better.
It was a meandering, unfocused and hollow experience only briefly and occasionally lit up by good actors doing their best to lift the material. And unfortunately this did not include Ansel Elgort or Oakes Fegley who played the lead.
Nicole Kidman was surprisingly effective as was Sarah Paulson, but Jeffrey Wright seemed to be replaying his Bernard host-role from “Westworld”.
Not even Roger Deakins’ cinematography could elevate this John Crawley dud.
Perhaps they should have gone to Netflix or Amazon and turned the novel into a mini-series event. 5 or 6 episodes, or even 3 two-hours ones, would have allowed the story to breathe and sufficiently explored the emotional complexities in Donna Tartt’s novel.
An oscar-baiting film on paper that just could not deliver.
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