How can something so busy be so boring? Maybe it's because the Wachowskis have officially begun cannibalizing their own work. Way back in 1999, The Matrix gave us a Chosen One who gets introduced to a reality entirely beyond his experience, a reality based on a terrifying premise: humanity reduced to fuel. Then, it was Keanu Reeves. Now, it's Mila Kunis. Though the actorly affect is similar, the change in gender and the passage of time have not improved matters, and the camp glory of blond Channing Tatum shirtlessly roller-blading through the sky doesn't make up for the midichlorianized mysticism. (Where The Matrix featured a prophecy with love at its heart, Jupiter offers the "almost spiritual" significance of genes.) The set design and costuming are pretty fabulous, though, and thank goodness: it gives you something to look at during the talk, talk, talk (which still somehow doesn't explain everything). It's a pity, really: an early bitchfest between three privileged siblings (including a wheezing Eddie Redmayne) promises something delicious and decadent, a futuristic Roman empire in decline. Instead, we get overlong chases and gunfights, awkward romance between a girl and her half-dog protector, and the endless wisps and ripples of technological decoration. (2015) — Matthew Lickona