The awful Robert De Niro that has shot up the Netflix charts
It is one of those movies that seems untouchable. Warm, comforting, and endlessly rewatchable, The Intern has long been a favourite in the feel-good film category. With Robert De Niro playing the world’s most patient and supportive intern and Anne Hathaway portraying a struggling-but-stylish CEO, it has all the ingredients of a modern comfort watch. And now, it is back on the Netflix charts.
But maybe it is time we admit something: The Intern is not actually a great movie. In fact, the more you look at it, the more it starts to fall apart. It is not bad because it is light or charming. It is bad because it confuses aesthetic softness for meaningful storytelling. It plays it safe, avoids discomfort, and wraps its flimsy plotlines in polite smiles.
For a film that brings together Robert De Niro and Anne Hathaway, you would expect more. More edge, more honesty, more risk. Instead, The Intern is content to be pleasant. And that pleasantness masks how shallow and frustrating it actually is when you step back from the glow.
So, yes, it may be trending, but The Intern deserves a rewatch with sharper eyes. Because once the warmth fades, what is left behind is a film that could have been bold but chose beige.
The Intern turns Robert De Niro into a Pinterest grandpa
The forgiveness arc with the husband feels forced and regressive
One of the most baffling choices in the film is having Hathaway’s character, Jules, go back to her cheating husband. The storyline builds up to what seems like an empowering decision, a woman choosing herself, her company, and her independence, only for it to be undone in one soft-focus scene of reconciliation. He cries, she softens, and the audience is expected to applaud her maturity.
But forgiving someone for infidelity is not inherently mature. Especially when the film frames it as part of her “learning to let go”. It undermines her strength and rewards his betrayal without consequence. In the end, the message becomes clear: women can be strong, just as long as they are also endlessly forgiving.
It uses De Niro more as a warm prop than a person
Robert De Niro is a legend. But here, he is reduced to a well-dressed support system. Ben Whittaker is charming, patient, always right, and has no arc of his own. He exists to listen, to soothe, and to fix things, without ever confronting his own loneliness, grief, or ageing in a real way.
He becomes an aesthetic more than a character. A human Pinterest board for how “nice old men” should behave. That might be comforting for the audience, but it wastes De Niro’s depth. This could have been a film about reinvention in later life. Instead, it is about being useful to the young until they figure themselves out.
It tries to say something about generations… but never really does
The film sets itself up as a conversation between two generations: the old-school formality of Ben vs the startup chaos of Jules’ world. But instead of actually digging into ageism, workplace friction, or how industries are evolving, it falls back on basic tropes. Ben is old but wise. The millennials are frazzled but talented. End scene.
There is no tension, no real conflict, no pushback. Everyone learns to love each other too easily. It is not that we want more drama; we just want it to try harder. A film about the modern workplace should feel more grounded than a TED Talk in a cashmere sweater.
It romanticises burnout and self-sacrifice
Jules is overwhelmed. Her marriage is falling apart, her investors are circling, and she is running herself into the ground. But instead of giving her the space to reflect or even rest, the film rewards her for taking on more. The resolution is not balanced. It is more graceful multitasking.
In trying to paint her as strong, the film ends up celebrating overwork. She is praised for “holding it all together”, when maybe she should have been told to let something go. It sends a quiet but damaging message, especially to women: if you cannot do everything, maybe you are not enough.
It plays like a vibe, not a story
Here is the truth. The Intern is not a film that wants to challenge or question anything. It wants to be liked. It wants to be rewatched while folding laundry or sipping coffee on a Sunday morning. There is nothing wrong with that. But let us not confuse comfort with quality.
From its beige offices to its softly lit resolutions, the film trades complexity for mood. And once you strip away the piano soundtrack and tailored coats, all that remains is a movie that was too afraid to say something real.