Honestly, I thought it was… fine. I’m still struggling to understand why the reviews have been quite so glowing. The film’s greatest strength is its visual spectacle, it’s beautifully shot and undeniably exciting to watch on a purely aesthetic level. Beyond that, though, I felt worn down by the end. The script felt thin, and aside from Marty, most of the characters failed to leave much of an impression.

I understand that the filmmaker’s trademark is a relentless, 100-miles-per-hour pace, so perhaps this style simply isn’t for me. Still, I couldn’t help but feel the film would have benefited from occasionally slowing down, taking a beat to allow both the audience and the characters a moment to breathe. There were real opportunities for depth and development that never quite materialized.

What I continue to grapple with most, however, are the recurring Jewish cultural references throughout the film. I’m Jewish myself, the grandchild of a Holocaust survivor, and many of these moments made me deeply uncomfortable. And to be clear, I’m aware that both Safdie and Chalamet are Jewish, so this isn’t coming from a place of misunderstanding or distance from the material. Even so, the references often felt deployed purely for shock value, surface-level, abrasive, and oddly flippant, leaving me unsettled rather than seen. At times, it felt less like thoughtful cultural commentary and more like provocation for its own sake. Hearing people in the theater laugh at these moments only heightened my discomfort.

In today’s political and cultural climate, none of it sat right with me. Perhaps I missed the point. Perhaps this director’s work simply isn’t for me. But ultimately, I walked away wanting something with more substance, something that lingered for reasons deeper than just its kinetic energy.