November 8, 2012
There will be times during the film of Cloud Atlas—somewhere in the dense second hour—when you will recall that the dog needs to be walked and that you may have left the coffee on, and, whatever your age, even if life is an ocean made up of many drops, you may resolve that life is too short for this errant nonsense. I stuck it out, TNR, only for you, and because I wanted to delay as long as possible the desperate plight of actually writing about the film. In the third hour, I have to admit, the disparate parts of this self-indulgent venture do make gestures of coming together.
Still, I suspect many will agree that the only emotional payoff comes in the credits. That’s when you realize that a strange cast of players take six
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