Even good acting (Marlon Brando) cannot save a script that has no depth and a director who lacks an eye for how to pick stories that are worth telling. If one is confused in one’s head (as writer or director), it does not make for good art to let confusion take over the story. The film likes to come off as being intellectual, but it’s creators lack intellect. Five out of the 130 minutes are truly moving: Roughly two thirds into the movie, Marlon Brando sits in front of the coffin of his dead-by-suicide wife and shows off his genius as an actor. From then on the film is again terrible.  The film end’s with the line, “He is a madman.” Ostensibly, Marlon Brando’s character is meant, but one wonder’s about how much grip on reality both the writer and director of this film had themselves. Insight is what is terribly missing here.