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Amateurish memoir adaptation.
George Clooney has lost his touch as a director.
Clooney's eighth feature effort is hobbled by myriad missteps.
Rudimentary rules of filmmaking get broken at every turn.
Voice-over narration (show don't tell), inept acting (Daniel Ranieri's cringe-inducing performance), and an on-the-nose script (beauty-can-disguise-a-horrible-soul), doom this movie to the dust bin of history.
Memoir moral: J.R. Moehringer wasn't bright enough to realize he had a responsible father figure all along. Duh.
Dumbass.
Pulitzer — Schumilitzer.
