​Okay, brace yourselves, because I did not think that The Irishman, the story of a mob hitman recalling his possible involvement with the slaying of Jimmy Hoffa, was the greatest film ever made. There, I said it. This film has been winning all sorts of awards, and who can blame groups like the New York Film Critics Circle and the National Board of Review? It’s Martin Scorsese, returning to the genre that made him the greatest living director, and he also gets Robert De Niro, Al Pacino and Joe Pesci onscreen, in the latter’s first major role in nearly 10 years. Ah! Joe freaking Pesci is onscreen again, finally.

That said, this movie is 3.5 hours long, and I felt it. I know Film Twitter has been all over this point, and maybe I wouldn’t have felt the runtime if I were watching this in a theater instead of on my couch at home, but so much of this film felt self-congratulatory.

Sure, Scorsese is the greatest living director, but does he really need to constantly remind us all of it? The Irishman didn’t feel like excess to show excess like The Wolf of Wall Street, it felt like excess simply because Scorsese could. Maybe he was so preoccupied with whether or not he could, he didn’t stop to think if he should, in order to weave a recognizable tale.

Also, I loved Al Pacino just going all-in on Jimmy Hoffa, but what was that accent? What are you doing, man? I’m picking on this film because of the love I have for everyone involved. Don’t get me wrong: this film is still great, and I personally had a blast watching the self-indulgence of Scorsese. The question is, will you? And, if you don’t, is it worth 3.5 hours of your life? Probably not.

The Irishman​ is currently available to stream on Netflix.