Every time Forest Whitaker's
hopeful, God - fearing Archbishop Desmond Tutu has a sit - down with Eric Bana's incarcerated, racist, death - squad assassin Piet Blomfeld, in lengthy, two - man scenes where they each pull out every emotion they can wring out, it's hard to shake the
feeling this was done on a
theater stage somewhere.
Still, there's an air of excitement radiating off Molly's Game, and the film ends on a truly
hopeful note that'll have you walk out of the
theater feeling like you just ended a poker game with a royal flush.