The minute — the very constituent element of the minute, the fleeting second I learned that Netflix made a movie about the lawmen who tracked and killed Bonnie and Clyde, and that Kevin Costner and Woody Harrelson would be playing them as — gasp — heroes, I knew there would be a great wailing. Bonnie and Clyde — they’re legendary! They were, like Robin Hoods. And so good looking! Also, they were media stars, which confers a certain moral authority. Why, Bonnie’s photographs were like proto-selfies or something. That movie was important! Why would you make a movie about the icky old men who committed gun violence on a social critic and a poetess?

Eh. I’m fascinated by the gangster era, but I don’t find any of it romantic or tragic. They were all horrible people who got what they deserved, and didn’t get it soon enough. The Netflix movie, The Highwaymen, commits the terrible sin of telling the story of the Texas Rangers who tracked down Bonnie and Clyde without questioning their own archaic modalities of masculinity, and the gnashing from critics is a joy to read.