Like a sloppy guy at a bar telling a farfetched tale

May “Amsterdam” ’s melodramatic sentimentality be forgiven; not many films of such exuberance, since the time of Chaplin, have been fuelled by such rage.

Russell’s conclusions are maudlin, but also curiously effective -- the film’s broad earnestness and sappy entreaties, prove hard to dismiss.

In the end, though, Amsterdam is a frustrating affair, let down by its own inanity and wayward plotting.