Avis des critiques

The film is at its best when it tells the audience what to think – when Francis is first introduced to Ronnie, her palpable fear despite Ronnie's relative charm gives the best idea of how it felt to live in the East End in the '60s, and sinks deeper than any of Ronnie's actual violence. The film also suffers from indecision about its main plot: is it the story of Francis and Reggie, or Reggie and Ronnie? Plot lines vanish and reappear when necessary, and in some cases don't actually go anywhere.

When it comes to story and directorial decision-making, the film is a big, stupid flop. It's only amazing that Hardy is able to remain somewhat mesmerizing on screen the entire way through, though it doesn't speak very highly of the kind of roles he picks.

The auditory illusion is impressive without being especially convincing. The same goes for the digital trickery that permits these dead ringers to share screen space (and even trade blows) although that has less to do with the quality of the editing or special effects than the distracting artificiality of Brian Helgeland's filmmaking.

It's the kind of loosely sketched, superficial portrait you suspect the Krays themselves would have a great time with (god rest their filthy cockney souls). That's not to accuse Helgeland of casting the brothers in an especially favourable light, more that he glamourises their corrupt lifestyle to the extent that his film often feels like a jaunty lament for Britain's gangland golden age.

Reggie, as it turns out, wasn't particularly interested in Frances beyond the conquest stage, and Helgeland seems to feel the same way. It's far more entertaining to sit back and enjoy the Krays' tornado-like passage through London's high and low society – so that's exactly what we're given. The mid-1960s are evoked in luscious, salivating detail, with designer Tom Conroy and cinematographer Dick Pope seemingly locked in a battle to show who loves the era's plasticky glamour the most.

It's too long and too muddled to stand among the greatest British gangland films like The Long Good Friday, let alone the greatest gangster movies ever. That's as it should be; real gangsters dismiss the Krays as wannabes, more desperate for attention than real cred. But as this big, brash ode to these brassnecked chancers shows, they succeeded in building a legend even if they failed to create an empire.

Hardy's inspired twin turn elevates and complicates the otherwise straightforward terrain of "Legend," in which writer-helmer Brian Helgeland gives London's East End gangland a slightly touristic candy-coating of Swinging '60s glamor. While Helgeland's script lacks the wit and grit of his Oscar-winning job on "L.A. Confidential," this lengthy, engrossing underworld saga creditably attempts to work a female perspective — that of Reggie's innocent wife, Frances — into these laddish proceedings.