I’m a fan. I think even mediocre Woody Allen movies are better than most of what’s out there—but that doesn’t mean they’re not disappointing. This one starts out strong. It’s 1928. Colin Firth is a stage magician and noted paranormal debunker who’s called upon to poke holes in the amazingly accurate prognostications of a pretty young clairvoyant (Emma Stone).
But then he’s “converted,” falls in love, and the movie immediately loses steam, along with any magic it might have had. Threadbare and predictable, this one feels off-the-rack. The script could have used a third draft, or even a second. (97 min)