In an Oscar-worthy performance as a doomed young woman whose disappearance 18 years ago remains a mystery, Andrew Jarecki's creation is like a true-life novelization that would make Truman Capote jealous.
Oliver Stone is never content to just make one movie; he always makes several, then squeezes them all together into one engorged package, chockablock with gaudy visuals, oversized characters and unchecked passion.
Some bad movies you slag off gleefully. Others provoke a certain disappointment at their failure, a mourning at the difference between the film's ambition and its execution. Richard Kelly's The Box is such a film.
Ron Howard's film doesn't make me wish I'd seen the Broadway play on which it is based. Just the opposite: I was glad to come to it fresh, without a preconception about what it could, should or would be.