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Lanksy is a workman-like film with decent production values, but Rockaway is not Scorcese or Coppola. There are no great faults to find with it, except one: fans of the genre have literally seen every element of it before.
Keitel . . . infuses his performance here with more than enough lion-in-winter gravitas to dominate every moment he is on screen, and quite a few when he isn’t, which in turn is sufficient to propel Lansky through stretches when the passing of time is felt, and the budgetary limitations are obvious.
Lansky loses steam every time the focus is on somewhere other than Lansky.