The Ethics Are Situational.

Rating: 6/10 (10 July 2014)

This is one of those futuristic movies that always confuses me because memories have been manipulated, the past is a mystery, and just when the hero (Cruise) and the viewer think they have a handle on the plot it turns into one of those giant, lavender, plopping mud puddles at Yellowstone National Park.
Where am I? The movie begins clearly enough. There has been a war that wiped out most of the people on Earth except those who have migrated to a colony elsewhere, one of Jupiter's moons or someplace. A few misguided enemy stragglers have been left behind on earth, hiding in holes, and must be eliminated -- casually, one by one -- by Tom Cruise.
Cruise has nothing much to complain about. He lives in a spotless plastic penthouse on top of a promontory and although he doesn't seem to have an HD-TV with a wide, curving screen, or much of anything else in the way of cultural artifacts, no cooking utensils or anything, he's not exactly starved for company. He's in constant touch with home base by radio/TV. They give him occasional orders like, "Scab found poking around at grid X plus 3. Eliminate."
Moreover, he has a house mate who handles all the communications and monitors Cruise's movements when he takes his helicopter out on a mission. She's skilled at her job. And, more important, compliant -- even eagerly compliant. And she's played by Zoë Bell, who is attractive, has these arresting Saurian eyes, and has done stunt work for people like Uma Thurman in real life. One can bet she brings new meaning to the concept of gymnastics.
A nice, quiet, domestic life for Cruise -- and the work is pleasant, too, occasionally blowing up people or left-over robots. I kept waiting for "Morning" from Peer Gynt Suite. His own robots zip around in the air and look like angry pool balls. They do the wet work.
But everything is not what it seems. Is it ever? When you look in the mirror, maybe you THINK you're seeing yourself as you really are, but you're not. The left hand side of the REAL YOU is the right hand side of the image in the mirror. I have broadened this idea into an entire philosophy of existence and expect to publish it shortly in my next volume: "The Reflective Universe." The logic is not entirely my own. It owes a great deal to the German phenomenologist and onanist Martin Freidegger, and to my high school football coach. (Thanks, Butch.)
Where was I? Anyway, the whole idyllic life is just a fantasy. The underground enemy is led by Morgan Freeman in black leather armor and shades. He and his acolytes live in a cave, so it's very dark. Then Olga Kurylenko enters the film and it brightens considerably. What a stunning babe. I am so glad the Cold War is over so she can be an unalloyed good person. Not only is she "good" but she, too, is compliant, I suppose compelled by the sheer Tom Cruiseness of the hero. But that's okay because she's also very moral. Yes, despite the apparently illicit sexual congress. Because she's his wife -- That's about as far as medical ethics will allow me to go with the plot. Besides, by this time I was terribly confused and I don't know if I could describe it accurately.
The climax is an extravaganza of special effects, and not bad, as these things go. Action aplenty. Those peed-off pool balls really get around and they're hard to knock down, even with what appears to be a quad mount of M-2 .50 caliber machine guns.
It's interesting enough to hold your interest but I wish they'd stop messing around with dreams, memories, fantasies, brain transplants, and all that stuff. If anyone needs that kind of confusion they can always glance through "Finnegans Wake" or something.