Saturday, September 29, 2007
A+E, Movies, Reviews
Beatles' musical 'Across the Universe' plays out of tune
If John and George weren’t dead already, “Across the Universe” might kill them...

(Left to right, front) Jim Sturgess, Evan Rachel Wood, Joe Anderson, (back) Dana Fuchs, Martin Luther McCoy and Ekaterina Sknarina in “Across the Universe”
CREDIT: Courtesy of Sony Pictures |
“ACROSS THE UNIVERSE”
Jim Sturgess, Evan Rachel Wood
Directed by Julie Taymor
Rated PG-13
Wide release |
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If John and George weren’t dead already, “Across the Universe” might kill them. Sure, the late half of the Fab Four survived the atrocity of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band”—that garish 1978 nightmare (George Burns is Mr. Kite!). The problem is, “Universe” isn’t a crass cash-in like that was. It’s the collaboration of really talented people who worked hard only to come up with a cringe-inducing magical history tour of the ’60s, harnessing some 30 Beatles tunes, sung by wide-eyed young folks as they’re swept into the maelstrom of free love, drugs and Army recruitment.
Director Julie Taymor (“Frida,” Broadway’s “The Lion King”) has an extraordinary eye, and “Universe” contains some of the most remarkable screen images of the year. Too bad the barely there script is about a working-class Liverpool lad named (urgh) Jude (Jim Sturgess) who comes to the States, falls for Ivy League princess (double urgh) Lucy (Evan Rachel Wood), then becomes a starving New York artist who learns that (until the feel-good climax, anyway) love isn’t all you need.
High points: The out-of-nowhere Sturgess has scruffy charisma and a Paul-perfect Liverpuddlian accent. Some of the arrangements of the songs are fascinatingly offbeat and sung well. Plus, they remind you that—wow—the Beatles really were that good! And wow, they shouldn’t be messed with!
Low points: Bono sleazing his way through a clichéd psychedelic scene as the Walrus. Even worse: a version of “Come Together” as a welcome-to-New-York fantasia, sung by Joe Cocker in multiple disguises (homeless guy, pimp). He’s backed by dancing whores, Wall Street businessmen with briefcases, etc. It’s enough to make you wish Jodie Foster would show up with her little gun and take back the night from these freaks. ONE STAR—Steve Murray