“Jupiter Ascending” invites the viewer to ask the big questions:
Is this movie the “Flash Gordon” of the Obama era? (Nah: “Flash” is more fun and has an awesome Queen soundtrack.)
Is it the “Showgirls?” (Not sleazy enough, but comparably acted.)
Is it the “Batman and Robin?” (Getting there. That one at least has amusing bat-nipples on the costumes. “Jupiter” feels closer to “Catwoman.”)
Is this final, clinching proof that not only is “The Matrix” the best sci-fi movie the Wachowskis will ever make (their 1996 neo-noir “Bound” remains a blast), but also is there now enough evidence to support the idea that its pop brilliance, its kinetic-yet-smartly-allegorical storytelling, was an anomaly? That they aren’t entirely sure what to do with a big, sprawling world after the conceptual art has been completed?
As the Magic Eight Ball is fond of stating, “Signs point to yes!”