This doesn’t threaten to derail the film, however. The odd swerves between po-faced gangstering and giddy love-making, or dramatic shouting and genuinely funny comedy means Legend never settles into a solid tempo, instead lurching through both time and various scenarios from the Kray’s lives.
Unfortunately, Helgeland’s script can’t match Hardy and Browning’s performances, nor his handling of the film’s direction. If it weren’t so stomach turning, it’d be beautiful. Hardy unleashes his character’s id and drives a knife into the man countless times, as Helgeland captures the blood, the movement, the reactions, the spatters. A scene near the film’s end shocks with the sensationalism, as an arrogant gang member dares to stand up to Reggie. Shootings, stabbings, torture, fist-fights - all are presented in matter-of-fact fashion. Helgeland doesn’t shy from conveying the violence that occurred. Indeed, the central love story almost deflects from the brutality of Legend. If it weren’t so stomach turning, it’d be beautiful.īrian Helgeland captures their performances with ease, revelling in the ’60s aesthetic and controlling the film’s action scenes with confidence. Frances’ story isn’t a happy one - its ending is one of the film’s genuinely tearful moments - and Browning, who also narrates, handles it wonderfully. Whereas their courtship is framed in bright colors (not least her wardrobe), as the stark reality of life as a gangster’s wife settles in, their every interaction becomes grey, the only emotion shown in spouts of anger from either side at the frustration of their growing divide. Indeed, her transformation, from upbeat, naive and love-filled to empty, hardened and cold is realized wonderfully by both Browning’s performance, make-up, and a filter applied whenever she and Reggie share the screen in later scenes. It’s perfectly complemented by Emily Browning as Reggie’s wife Frances, whose doe-eyed beauty is slowly stripped away as she realizes love can’t change him. Hardy can flit between cool calmness and blind rage in fewer frames than the camera seems able to capture. He marches down streets, slings punches with confidence, stares down rivals. Hardy steps into his shoes with the arrogance, the bravado, the sexual dominancy the role demands. Reggie Kray wanted it all, the trappings of fame and the grit of gang life. Hardy can flit between cool calmness and blind rage in fewer frames than the camera seems able to capture.īut underneath the surface seethed a hot-headed temper that was quick to flare, a desire for violence that was hard to quell, a thirst for more control, more drugs, more gang members, more infamy. He also longed for married life and to settle down. Taking control of establishments that were frequented by celebrities gave him a taste for fame, for legitimacy, for aspiring to be more than his Cockney roots. Reggie handled the day-to-day runnings, managing people, sorting finances, tackling disputes with other gangs, negotiating with the American Mafia. Kray headed the brothers’ gang The Firm, sitting atop a crime empire that eventually controlled most of the London’s East End. Based on the lives of the infamous Kray twins - London gangsters during the ’50s and ’60s - Hardy has the unenviable task of stepping into both sets of shoes, one a suave, ruthless leader, the other a gay, schizophrenic sociopath.Īs Reggie Kray, Hardy delivers an incredible performance. But that’s something Tom Hardy manages with ease in Legend ( ). It’s a very rare talent, though, to both generate awards buzz and potentially ruin it in one film. Halle Berry made everyone question her Academy Award while they suffered through Catwoman. Sandra Bullock almost derailed her Best Actress win for The Blind Side by starring in All About Steve. Eddie Murphy destroyed his Dreamgirls Oscar dreams by making the hideously awful Norbit.
It can take only one role to tarnish an actor’s chances at awards success. Legend: Tom Hardy as the Kray twins – Photo: Greg Williams/Studiocanal/PA Wire
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