Until the End of the World

This misbegotten epic shows how directors who have achieved an art house following can believe they possess the secret of the universe, blow $23 million and emerge with a three-hour film that's less than perfect. Thus Wim Wenders, admired for his bleak thrillers and general coolness in movies including Paris, Texas and Wings of Desire, took William Hurt, Max von Sydow, Sam Neill and others to eight countries without a script, assuming that sheer genius was enough. All they had was an idea about a nuclear satellite crashing to Earth in 1999 and a cluster of unrelated subplots. Hurt is given a not very interesting love interest and seems bored out of his mind. It's nicely shot, though, partly in the Australian outback, but then so are car advertisements.