The Laundromat (2019)

The Laundromat is a rare civics lesson that plays like a mischievous caper, with Steven Soderbergh turning the Panama Papers into brisk, bite-sized stories that are as entertaining as they are infuriating. Gary Oldman and Antonio Banderas glide through the film as slick, self-satisfied guides to a world where money slips through loopholes like water, while Meryl Streep anchors the human cost with wit, warmth, and righteous disbelief. The tone is bright and playful on the surface, but there’s a bitter comedy underneath that keeps landing because it’s pointed, not preachy. If you prefer your dramas straightforward and your satire subtle, it may feel a little showy and lecture-adjacent—but if you want a lively, funny, oddly valuable look at how corruption gets paperwork and a smile, this is an easy yes.

The Laundromat wants to be a slick, darkly funny civics lesson about how the rich hide money, using Soderbergh’s fast-cut style and big-name performances to keep you entertained while you get angry. The problem is it plays like a handful of half-finished sketches taped together: lots of winking narration, tonal whiplash, and story threads that don’t land with the punch the subject deserves. If you’re hoping for a tight, propulsive scandal thriller in the vein of Spotlight or The Big Short, this can feel muddled and oddly lightweight despite the grim real-world stakes. Still, Streep commits, Oldman and Banderas have showy energy, and there are moments of clarity that might work if you’re in the mood for a message-first satire rather than a coherent drama.