Two hundred and seventy-third film: JFK, , a well-directed conspiracy movie from Oliver Stone about the assassination of Kennedy, maybe you’ve heard of him. Three hours is a grotesque insult of a duration for a movie, but Stone clearly needed it to cram in every single flash of footage and re-creation he could find, and to make us as sick of hearing Kevin Costner’s two-tone (both beige) voice as possible. It is undoubtedly a good movie, it is certainly a convincing movie, and it is reportedly a very very fictional movie, but — ask any Trump supporter — conspiracies are great fun. If you have the time it’s super-enjoyable, especially once you realise that you don’t have to keep track of absolutely every detail exposed in long monologues delivered by Donald Sutherland and Kevins Costner and Bacon — you just have to relax and understand that the government did it. There are at least two extremely terrible wigs in this movie, at least two moments when you wish Kennedy was wearing one, and ten to twelve different interpretations of what constitutes a Louisiana accent, but it’s a pretty good time. Three meandering bullets out of five.