Ill-Informed Gadfly

If you ever hear me equivocating about the prospect of seeing a Julie Taymor movie in the theater, please, slap me. I say this even though “Across the Universe” may well be more enjoyable at home. When you can hit pause, its slightness and lack of momentum don’t bother you as much. You can focus on what’s important: the imagery and the music. By the same token, those elements are most impressive on the big screen. Taymor is a ballsy director who’s not afraid to fail, to be savaged, to look ridiculous. I thought her over-the-top imagery and theatrics meshed perfectly with the Shakespearean bloodbath “Titus Andronicus,” which she adapted into “Titus,” her delirious first movie, starring Anthony Hopkins in one of his nerviest performances. (By trade, Taymor is a stage director and choreographer best known for her bold reimagining of “The Lion King.”) I was dismayed by Taymor’s follow-up, “Frida,” a stilted biopic of the hard-knock Mexican painter Frida Kahlo. None of her visual flights of fancy could disguise that movie’s tediousness; if anything, she just made it worse.

With “Across the Universe,” she takes a daring concept — a late-60s-set musical romance, to the tune of Beatles songs sung by the cast — and carries it off just short of brilliantly. When she’s on, she meshes sound and image with feverish invention. At times “Across the Universe” is little more than a series of music videos, but Taymor drives the plot forward with brief and shrewd cutaways. Characters get introduced through song. One wonders what Taymor is up to when she abandons the two leads to allow a lesbian cheerleader (T.V. Carpio) to reinterpret “I Want to Hold Your Hand” as a wrenching anthem of unrequited love. But trust me, just go with it: It’s the best and most surprising vocal performance in the movie, and the sequence stands alone. (Later, the girl joins the leads at their Bohemian East Village digs. Her name is Prudence, for no other reason than to give Taymor an excuse to use the song “Dear Prudence.” She eventually finds love with a contortionist — awww — then fades into the background. But what a first impression!)

At the center of “Across the Universe” is the romance between Lucy (Evan Rachel Wood), a blond and privileged American whose high school sweetheart is killed in Vietnam, and Jude (Jim Sturgess), a doe-eyed Liverpudlian dockworker who sails to the States to find his father. At Princeton University, Jude discovers his father is not a professor but a maintenance worker, and he meets Max (Joe Anderson), Lucy’s ne’er-do-well brother. (”With a Little Help From My Friends” cements the bond between Jude and Max.) We know Lucy’s first boyfriend is a goner, but to Taymor’s credit she captures the emotion behind his death inventively, with “Let It Be” as the expression of grief both for Lucy and for an African-American family in Detroit that loses a child during the 1967 riots. A gospel choir allows the Lennon-McCartney melody to soar, and Taymor avoids implying that the 60s were only turbulent for white folks in nice neighborhoods.

Lucy moves to New York and takes up with Jude, who loved her at first sight. Wood gently massages “If I Fell” as Lucy asks herself whether she can love again. Of course she can — love is resilient in the Beatles’ oeuvre. That’s why I couldn’t quite buy the fragility of Lucy and Jude’s affair. He’s an artist and she’s an anti-war activist, and they’re supposed to be driven apart by their divergent ideals. The fact that he’s English and can’t get drafted ought to come as a relief to Lucy, particularly after Max’s number comes up. Taymor stages her best set piece to the tune of “I Want You” — Uncle Sam steps out of a poster to grab Max, who’s stripped of his individuality and remade into a soldier by a stomping, soulless clay army. It’s “Full Metal Jacket” remade as three minutes of dynamic music and choreography.

Before Max ships out, there’s the de riguer psychedelic interlude, with Bono as a mystic named Dr. Robert. He nails “I Am the Walrus.” (All the character names come from Beatles songs, if you hadn’t figured that out by now.) The pace begins to slow; Taymor’s doodling veers close to indulgent. She’s better off when she keeps things simple and leans on the resourceful pipes of Dana Fuchs, who looks and sounds a bit like Joan Osborne. Fuchs plays a nightclub singer named Sadie who lives with Jude and Max; Martin Luther is JoJo, her guitarist and off-and-on lover. Their love story has even less complexity than the main one, but musically, Fuchs and Luther don’t disappoint.

Preternaturally talented from a young age, Wood has always managed to find the roiling emotion beneath her pristinely beautiful exterior. She sometimes mistakes soft-spokenness for subtlety; she has a frustrating tendency to fade out the ends of her lines. But she can also be quietly heartbreaking. She’s smart and sensual and alive — an intellectual dream girl. I’m not as sold on Sturgess. I can’t blame Taymor for casting him — he’s English, he can sing, and he looks like he could have been a Beatle. But there’s not much urgency to his acting or his singing; he’s a puppy. In its final act, “Across the Universe” begins to feel both rushed and inevitable; Taymor steamrolls through song after song, and the connective tissue stops holding your interest. Lucy and Jude’s story needs another twist; their personalities, more grit. A tragic ending would be unthinkable — they’re not interesting or specific enough. For the same reason, their happy conclusion won’t leave you overwhelmed with joy. I felt like looking ahead 20 years and finding one of those ex-hippie couples that marriage, kids and careers have turned complacent and conventional. If Jude ever gets his citizenship, I could see him voting for Reagan, to Lucy’s mild consternation.

You can’t fault Taymor for trying, though. “Across the Universe” is a work of visual and sonic passion and a marvelous outlet for her weird and fervid talent. If it doesn’t leave you singing, I’m not sure you’re human.