EARLY ACCESS ~ ACROSS THE UNIVERSE

Across the Universe (2007) is the cinematic equivalent of flipping through a Beatles album while tripping on a lava lamp. Directed by Julie Taymor—who never met a visual metaphor she didn’t want to explode into glitter—this is a jukebox musical that dares to take 30+ Beatles songs and stitch them into a swirling, technicolor fever dream of love, war, protest, and coming-of-age angst set against the backdrop of the 1960s. It’s ambitious. It’s gorgeous. It’s also completely out of its damn mind.

The plot (such as it is) follows Jude (yes, that Jude), a dreamy Liverpool lad who hops across the pond and falls in love with Lucy (yes, that Lucy), an all-American girl whose world is falling apart as her brother is shipped off to Vietnam. They’re joined by a rotating cast of characters named after Beatles lyrics (Sadie, Prudence, Jojo, etc.) who exist more as musical archetypes than people with arcs. And really, that’s kind of the point—narrative cohesion takes a back seat to the vibe.

And what a vibe it is. Taymor directs like she’s painting with psychedelics: one moment you’re watching a tender acoustic ballad on a rooftop, and the next you’re drowning in a kaleidoscope of animated Uncle Sams and surreal battlefield choreography. “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” becomes a nightmarish military recruitment fantasy. “I Am the Walrus” is sung by Bono in a drug-fueled circus caravan. Bono.

The cast—largely unknowns at the time—does solid work, with Jim Sturgess and Evan Rachel Wood carrying most of the emotional weight. Their vocals are strong, if not spectacular, but the arrangements breathe new life into familiar songs. Some numbers soar ("Let It Be," "Across the Universe"), others feel like weird detours ("Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite"), but there’s no denying the creativity poured into every sequence.

Across the Universe isn’t for everyone. It’s messy, indulgent, and occasionally so up its own artsy ass that it forgets people are supposed to care about what’s happening. But if you’re willing to surrender to the style-over-substance approach, it’s an undeniably bold experiment in musical filmmaking—a love letter to the Beatles, to the ‘60s, and to the idea that a great song really can change everything. Or at least look really cool while trying.