Amsterdam

It takes well over an hour before Amsterdam decides what it wants to be and, by that time, viewers may be exasperated by the film’s quirkiness and exhausted by its meandering, unfocused storyline.

Like a sloppy guy at a bar telling a farfetched tale

May “Amsterdam” ’s melodramatic sentimentality be forgiven; not many films of such exuberance, since the time of Chaplin, have been fuelled by such rage.

Russell’s conclusions are maudlin, but also curiously effective -- the film’s broad earnestness and sappy entreaties, prove hard to dismiss.

Behind the high energy and flashy cast, there's a shocking lack of emotional depth — like a performer giving us jazz hands paired with a vacant stare.

In the same way that its bloated cast becomes a distraction which takes you out of the story, Amsterdam is unnecessarily convoluted, twisting its confusing narrative into a cobra knot.

David O. Russell’s latest outing is a glibly entertaining caper completely undone by its self-importance.

While there has been some criticism about the plot being too busy and trying to say too many things, part of Amsterdam's charm is its "everything, everywhere, all at once" vibe.

Despite being based in fact, the story ends up being rather bland and the movie becomes more about being a way to spotlight the actors.

It's not just the wonky pacing, but that it forever feels like none of it lands the way it's supposed to. It's like a song with a beautifully formed melody played over a rhythm section that can't keep even basic time.