Cloud Atlas

Corny. Sweet. As image makers they’re not at their best, but as masters of sentimental engineering they’ve rarely felt more enjoyably brash. The Wachowskis' bead curtain-and-incense New Age-y racial fetishism is as bothersome as it is fascinating and goofily endearing. It's "The New Face of America" as mythopoetic world-building philosophy, with time shuttling back and forth on the y axis. I won't overthink it, but I had a somewhat good time, whereas the book never grabbed me. Hugo Weaving as the green goblin, or whatever, for MVP. Halle showed up, too, and I’m glad that it was in a movie as strange as this that she showed us she still could.