At the end of this nonsense, to be sure, there is a massacre to brighten things up a little. But then the pall sets in again, with more narration and soapflakes and moralistic shots of Al Capone’s gravestone. And what you’re left with is the certainty that Jason Robards has never turned in a more one-dimensional performance. That’s about all. As to who was responsible for the massacre. I lost track of who was who about halfway through. I guess it was Capone. But I read the book. — Roger Ebert