John Frankensteiner’s review published on Letterboxd:
When Arnold Palmer was approximately 200-years-old he golfed The Masters one last time and predictably did awful, which was fine because doing well wasn't the point. Palmer was just going out there having a good time with some old friends, a victory lap because he could. The Masters showed class (for the first time ever?) by keeping his score off the board as to not embarrass the fucking man, the goddamned icon. Jim Jarmusch, welcome to The Masters, you goddamned icon. Hope you had a good time with some old friends. Your score is off the board.