Let’s get this out of the way: Darkest Hour
is pure, uncut Oscar bait that goes through every bullcrap great-man biopic platitude imaginable in its two-hour runtime. The reason to rush to such a harsh judgement is perhaps because it’s so damn hard to understand the actual reason for making this film in the first place other than racking up gold statues. If Christopher Nolan
received a small segment of backlash a couple months back for being “Tory porn,” then rightfully expect double that for this self-parody of the British prestige picture. Though, ultimately, the film is too anodyne an experience to really get up in arms at for its certainly out-of-time, out-of-place politics.
Proving that maybe we’re not so much seeing a reboot of the End of History period that spawned all the World War II movies of the late ’90s and early naughts