More curious footnote than gangster classic, Brian Helgeland’s Legend is a shapeless, tonally confused mélange that lives and dies on Tom Hardy’s socko dual turn as Ronald and Reginald Kray, a pair of identical twin brothers who terrorised London in the ‘50s and ‘60s. Peter Medak’s 1990 film The Krays previously took a chilling stab at their story, but Helgeland’s take is altogether sleeker, flashier and more glamorised, tapping into the mythic celebrity image they created for themselves and pandering to a certain peculiar nostalgia.
It’s a representation the Krays would probably approve of, favouring swingin’ Goodfellas-like swagger and glitzy high-living over psychological depth and grittiness. Dick Pope’s overly glossy cinematography seems to have scrubbed the East End squeaky clean, dulling the edge off the brothers’ propensity for brute thuggery.
Hardy is over-the-top but undeniably entertaining to watch — he’s adept at locating their respective sociopathic tendencies and often testy brotherly bond. Those uncanny side-by-side master shots always get me (it could be argued that Helgeland could’ve been more creative in his blocking). But as often is the problem with these unchecked screen-chewing showcases, they ultimately signify little when the film built around them isn’t up to par. Legend seems uncertain as to its narrative focus. The omnipresent narration of Reggie’s wife Frances Shea (Emily Browning) implies that the story is relayed from her perspective, but if that’s the case, then it’s woefully underserved by her flatly written character.
Legend might appeal to undiscriminating crime fans who aren’t familiar with the Krays; others may want something a little punchier where Chazz Palminteri doesn’t look so tired to be playing another mobster.
Keen on this? Give these a go, too: Goodfellas, American Hustle, Snatch
