I sometimes describe myself as a Nihilist. Not the “burn-the-world-down” anarchy-crossover kind, but the “uggggg, what’s the point?” kind. I have boxes of old family photos and — beyond my own parents and grandparents — I can’t identify any of the people. My kids would be hard-pressed to even point out my grandparents, much-less the… Continue reading “The Irishman” Review: Scorsese meditates on morality, aging and consequences
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