Not as bad as I’d feared, which is still a grim place to start. John Patton Ford’s loose reworking of Kind Hearts and Coronets has Glen Powell knocking off wealthy relatives for an inheritance, plus a deathbed-confession framing device pinched from Amadeus that at least gives the thing some shape. Shame the actual film isn’t funny. That feels less like a minor flaw than a design error. Alec Guinness played eight doomed aristocrats in the original with ice-cold comic precision; this lot can barely scrape together one decent laugh.
Margaret Qualley now seems to have two modes: brilliant (The Substance or Blue Moon), or stranded in arch, dead-on-arrival misfires ( Drive-Away Dolls or Honey Don't!). This is very much the latter. Powell does what he can, but charm only gets you so far when the script has no bite and the whole thing feels weirdly bloodless.
Stay at home, watch an Ealing Comedy instead.