If you are going to baffle an audience for nearly three hours, you'd better make sure you have a damn good pay-off. But like the last two Matrix films, this peters out into embarrassing hippy drivel about reincarnation and cosmic interconnectedness.
Cloud Atlas ... is most likely to suffer by its own technological hand, as today's CGI effects become dated relics, and with a finale that doesn't so much reward audiences as it does offer them relief that their trial of patience is over.
...like a three-hour, constantly shifting contradiction. You want to give it credit for all its dazzling imagery, but almost every actual idea it presents it eventually contradicts or leaves incomplete.
A gorgeously shot package that blends the past, present, and future into diverse, lushly imagined realities that at least manage the task of feeling like they're from a single work. If only that work actually succeeded in fulfilling its lofty aspirations.
Men play women. Women play men. Blacks play whites. An Asian plays a freckled Victorian. Bad accents flourish. And Hugo Weaving, whether he's a he, she, or ridiculous hoodoo leprechaun, is always the villain.