CAPONE Cert 18 ★★ On Netflix now
HE’S lost his marbles, his hair is falling out and his skin has turned an alarming hue. One of America’s most dangerous men is a now a living wreck, prowling his Florida estate and raging at cronies.
If they ever get round to a Donald Trump biopic, then
Tom Hardy’s Al Capone movie would work as a wonderful audition piece.
Director Josh Trank forgoes the usual Tommygun fights to concentrate on the final year of the Mafioso’s life. Capone is 47 (but looks at least a hundred years older) and has been released from Alcatraz to die from syphilis. As he’s suffering from paresis, a form of dementia, this isn’t going to be an easy ride for his devoted wife Mae (Linda Cardellini).
What passes for a plot involves a hoard of cash that Capone may have hidden before he lost his memory.
While he struggles to separate fantasy from reality,
Kyle Maclachlan’s corrupt doctor and Jack Lowden’s FBI agent begin circling.
But, despite a smattering of famous faces in the supporting cast (Matt Dillon appears as an old associate), this is really a one-man show for Hardy. Slathered in what looks like rotting flesh, his gangster is a collection of grunts, ticks and animal noises.
If you enjoyed seeing him play both Kray twins in 2015, but thought his dual performances were a bit too subtle, this film is for you.
I just felt sorry for his poor wife. Mae (like Melania) may have a nice big pad in Florida but no one should have to put up with this.
with
In biting winds under moody grey skies, the winter woodlands around me were unsurprisingly devoid of songbirds hunkered down to escape the cold.
Yet one bird’s ominous outline could be seen amid the dreariness – the distinctive ‘flying cross’ shape of a raven on the wing.
As bulky as a buzzard and with a long diamond-shaped tail, the raven is a huge bird with a honking cry that carries far.
Ravens thrive in the cold. I have seen them trailing polar bears in the Canadian Arctic, eyes primed for blubbery seal scraps.
Winter in the Chilterns must seem balmy for them – but for too long their distinctive silhouettes have been absent from southern England – apart from of course at the Tower of London where legend states their presence ensures the survival of the Crown.
Persecuted as vermin during the 19th century, ravens were driven to the remotest parts of Britain.
More enlightened times have brought about something of a renaissance – and over the past decade there has been a 20% population increase to an estimated 10,000 breeding pairs.
Every walk along the chalk ridges near my home invariably produces a honk of a distant raven and, if I am lucky, the sight of two birds (they are monogamous and pairs bond for life) flying leisurely overhead with distinctive wing beats.
However, I was not anticipating seeing many birds at all on this particular lockdown stroll. A few fieldfares, dazzling-winged goldfinches and a rasping grey partridge looked the scant rewards for a long slog with the dog.
Then came the bugle of a raven, followed by a second. Unexpectedly, there was a third. A deer carcass was creating a scene you might expect from ravenous vultures in the Serengeti. Up to 16 were feasting, keeping the red kites at bay and dwarfing carrion crows waiting their turn.
Once described as the “great requiem bird of myth and legend”, ravens should be cherished rather than seen as portents of doom. Long may they fly over us.
‘‘ Persecuted long ago as vermin they are now having a renaissance