Motherless Brooklyn

It’s a crying shame/outrage this magnificent movie was denied a cinema release here, especially given the success of Netflix’s The Irishman in its limited theatrical run.

Every now and then a film comes along where the care and craft combine to give it an instantly recognisable solidity and watchability.

Norton and his crew haven’t settled for the tobacco-stained tones that often prevail when movies take a trip into the past. They win you over by stealth with the symmetry of their compositions and the warmth of a palette that owes much to Edward Hopper’s New York paintings.

When brassy Cherry Jones shows up as a Jane Jacobs in all but name, shouting down the builders, you wish Norton would commit to the real-life showdown he'd clearly rather be making.

A sprawling, ambitious tale of murder, blackmail and corruption in mid-century New York to rival "Chinatown" in its complexity, if not necessarily that brain-bender's elegance or appeal...

I miss this kind of story - told with jazz and intrigue, coal-black streets and smoky silhouettes - and Norton's filmmaking evokes it tenderly.

An overdone epic of socio-political venality with clear designs on being viewed as an East Coast Chinatown.

The character may be unusual but the complex conspiracy of shady characters and dodgy dealing is all too familiar, dragging down a film that already has a lengthy running time.

The adaptation of Jonathan Lethem's novel lacks the finesse it needs.

Whatever its flaws, it is a substantial and distinctive drama, unlike anything around in the cinema right now, although obviously like a lot of the gumshoe movies of yesteryear.