Who the hell is Bill Sullivan? That was my first clue that the entire meticulous and slowly developing film was a steaming pile of crap. Once again, our dear friends on the Left Coast took a whopping good story and fictionally twisted it to make a very long, mildly interesting flick instead of the taut, intriguing thriller it could have been.
What a load of bollocks.
The problem isn’t that it’s a bad story, it’s that there are so many glaring annoyances as to distract you from the story and leave you shaking your head in wonder. How many scenes of grown men jumping around in grass skirts and bawling out oaths of allegiance to each other while loudly congratulating themselves on ruling the world can one really stomach? How utterly miscast is Angelina Jolie in anything that doesn’t require her to be – in essence – Angelina Jolie? How freaking ugly was the beanpole son? How amazing is it that his level of stupidity matches the level of his looks? When was Grant’s Tomb the Air and Space museum?
Oh wait, they meant “Wild” Bill Donovan. Now that story would make a movie worth watching.