WE

With the right amount of directorial mishandling, you can utterly waste the talent of two actresses who are otherwise first-class.

The coda plays like one long and petulant foot stomp about sacrifice and due recognition of said sacrifice, and in that, too, it's impossible not to tease the thread back to its maker, striking a pose as misunderstood icon.

It's hard to hate a movie that escorts us to such lovely locales, but instead of marking the territory as her own, Madonna has directed a potentially provocative story like a virgin.

W.E. offers astounding proof that a movie can be larded with talent, money and craft, yet fail miserably.