Excerpt: A limp noodle of a cinematic noir that drains Patricia Clarkson of her usual eccentric charisma. And where it aims for intriguingly oblique pseudoscientific philosophizing, it ends up merely obtuse.
Excerpt: There isn’t one shred of emotion during the whole film to help us invest—just yelling and stoicism alternating until naturalism is officially thrown out the window. I get that Mike’s discovering who she is against this backdrop of infinity, but why? Why now? Why should any of us care?