THE KING OF MARVIN GARDENS: caution - may cause drowsiness

Make that definitely will induce a deep slumber reminiscent of hibernation.
1972's THE KING OF MARVIN GARDENS is the most boring film I've seen in a long time. This tale of two mismatched brothers meanders along for what seems like an eternity until one of the characters finally flips out and grabs a gun. A moment longer and I'd have beaten her to it.
Jack Nicholson is David, the depressed brother, and Bruce  Dern is Jason, the deluded one who draws his brother into his latest pie in the sky scheme to get rich quick. What's so frustrating is that David knows exactly what his brother's like and he still goes along with him.

The message here would appear to be that blood is thicker than water, although the real thickness is to be found in the skulls of these two men. It's difficult to generate much sympathy for two such obviously stupid people and impossible to believe that a character as passive as David could ever have carved out a successful career for himself as a teller of tall tales on late night radio.
Nicholson is positively catatonic in his portrayal of David. It's left to Dern and a wildly overacting Ellen Burstyn in particular, as an unstable, over-the-hill showgirl to provide the histrionics.
This movie's one saving grace is it's setting. Much of the action takes place around the boardwalk and decayed glamor of a pre-casino, out-of-season Atlantic City. With it's decrepid clientele shuffling along the seafront and through the lobbies of the monstrously unattractive hotels the resort resembles God's waiting room.
But atmosphere alone is not enough to sustain the interest for an hour and forty five minutes. As a sedative THE KING OF MARVIN GARDENS is an award winner, but as a piece of entertainment it's a dead loss.