The Matrix Reloaded. . . to SUCK!

The Slate’s David Edelstein didn’t appreciate the Matrix sequel:

The original was, above all, an ontological mystery: How could Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) hang suspended in midair? Why did Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) know what Neo, then Thomas Anderson, was up to every second? Why did Anderson’s life feel like a dream? The answers came gradually, mind-bendingly, mind-blowingly: an astute mix of everything trendy in postmodern sci-fi (Philip K. Dick and his paranoid visions of the world-as-simulation) and philosophy (Jean Baudrillard’s view of the real obscured by materialism and technology), and everything up-to-the-minute in special effects and action. Most important, once Neo took the red pill, unplugged himself, and entered the virtual dojo, each fight developed his sense of who he was and what, within the Matrix, he was capable of doing; each action scene marked an ontological/metaphysical leap forward.

The grim news is that The Matrix Reloaded is as messy and flat-footed as its predecessor is nimble and shapely. It’s an ugly, bloated, repetitive movie that builds to a punch line that should have come an hour earlier (at least). Then it ends as it’s just beginning: Stay tuned for The Matrix Revolutions, coming in November to 8,000 theaters near you.

I suppose I’ll just have to find out myself. But in other news, I did break down and buy the Matrix and Philosophy, just for kicks. That will be great reading just before the movie.