Any film by Martin Scorsese is destined (or, perhaps more aptly described as “doomed”) to become Oscar bait. Add in big-name actors like Robert De Niro and Al Pacino, a mystery steeped in Americana lore, and a hefty dose of nostalgia and…you have whatever The Irishman is.

In truth, I was bored from fifteen minutes in until the end more than three hours later.

by The Collected Mutineer

Its Oscar season, which means that the Collective team is working its way through each film nominated in the Best Picture category. For me, this time of year comes with both a measure of excitement and a measure of reservation. I often wonder why certain films were nominated, why some were snubbed, and even more often: “did anyone actually see this movie?”

In the case of Vice, which stars Christian Bale transformed as former veep Dick Cheney, I wasn’t surprised to see its name listed. After all, Hollywood loves movies where actors are nearly unrecognizable (and boy, does Bale deliver). What I wasn’t expecting, however, was how the film was going to make me feel by the time it was over—despite some fumbled storytelling and forced analogies, Vice is an unforgiving reflection of American society.

**This review is as spoiler-free as I can make it, considering the events are public knowledge and in living memory for many of us.**