Interstellar

Christopher Nolan has earned enough trust and respect to make the dark, thematically ambitious and potentially difficult films that studios usually avoid like the plague, and on the scale of his choice. Based as much on the success of his rabbit-hole actioner Inception as his money-in-the-bank Batman movies, he even got Paramount to back his moony and assaultive three-hour space epic Interstellar. Rather than liberating Nolan, however, the ability to make big-budget movies that aim to do more than sell souvenir soda cups has weighed on him like a divine task, and each film has become more dreadfully self-important than the last. Interstellar is a nonstop barrage of teachable moments, simultaneously bloated and rushed, and crammed with more topical detritus than a Lee Daniels film. There is no shortage of visual spectacle here, but Interstellar flirts with big ideas and weighty themes only to avoid probing beneath their surfaces.