Capone (2020) review

Woefully inept biopic covering the final years of infamous mobster Alphonse Capone (Tom Hardy): he's suffering from neurosyphilis, plagued by flashbacks of his violent, crazy life, can't remember where he buried $10 million ... all while being cared for by his compassionate wife Mae (Linda Cardellini).  You can blame Hardy all you want for showboating - and believe me, he takes it pretty far - but it was up to writer-director-editor Trask to keep him under tighter control (and not dress him up like Nosferatu with a carrot in his mouth) - he also needed a script that didn't peddle in cheap psychoanalysis (those hallucination scenes), lame symbolism (the golden balloons, the statues, the alligators) or concentrate on Capone's bodily functions (in one hilarious scene, he flatulates when talking to the FBI ... earlier in the movie, he accidentally defecates on his wife while in bed).  There is one tiny morsel of truth in there, and it's Matt Dillon's character's warning to Al about what happens to people who spend too much time in Florida.  It's a state that does something to you.