In the sweltering haze of 1940s Florida, Al Capone (Tom Hardy, a grotesque tour de force of grunts and grimaces) isn’t the slick Chicago kingpin anymore—he’s a syphilis-ravaged husk, diapers sagging under his bathrobe, chasing ghosts from a glory stained red.  Josh Trank’s feverish biopic skips the glory days for this gut-wrenching endgame: Fonso’s mind unravels in flashbacks of massacres and betrayals, while his loyal wife Mae (Linda Cardellini, tender yet frayed) peddles heirlooms to keep the wolves at bay. Matt Dillon’s shadowy Johnny and Kyle MacLachlan’s slick doc circle like vultures, feeding the paranoia.

It’s a bold swing—visceral hallucinations, like a balloon ascending over a kid’s corpse, blur myth and madness—but the script stumbles, mistaking decay for depth. Hardy’s feral commitment (those raspy rants demand subtitles) is the hook, turning decrepitude into a haunting howl. A flawed fever dream on Hulu or Prime—watch if you crave Hardy unhinged.

Related Movies: