The Mule is sort of awful and sort of fascinating, a meandering melodrama based on the true story of a 90-year-old Detroit florist who worked as a drug mule for the Mexican cartels.
All the family agita in the movie is entirely fictional and bathetically awful yet also underdeveloped. The drug-mule stuff is interesting until it turns into a ludicrous road movie in which star/director Clint Eastwood romps with buxom hookers and delivers life advice to DEA agents and Cartel higher-ups alike. It's somehow well-worth-watching and utterly disposable.
A scene in which our lovable mule calls a couple of African-Americans "Negroes," acts like he wasn't aware that it's not a term generally used in 2017 (when the movie is set), and then lectures them (like so many others) on their smartphone usage while helping change their flat tire is the most bonkers scene in the movie. Clint Eastwood, Twinkly Racist!
I'm pretty sure Larry Fishburne filmed all his scenes in about two hours, given that he's stuck in either the same hallway or the same office for all those scenes. Bradley Cooper is, well, Bradley Cooper. A fine cast does what it can. Recommended as a sort of car wreck.
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