Scott Greenstone

As it is, Elvis is a gorgeous tragedy, a movie mixtape with a sonorous performance at its core, maybe Luhrmann’s best since “Romeo + Juliet” (1996) and perhaps his most postcard-perfect movie ever. But it has a rubberized script, a turgid length and a key issue that affects many musical biopics: It’s not really sure what it thinks or wants to say about Presley.

Garland has yet again created something singular here, but he hasn’t cinched it.

It’s not overtly radical, but the way it showcases how weird each member of the family can be — from Tina’s pseudosexual love of zombies to Gene’s obsession with performing bad music in terrible costumes — and how the rest love them anyway is quietly revolutionary.

If you want a quick diversion, take a trip to Fire Island — but don’t go looking for something that will last.

When the two groups meet, the movie becomes incredibly disjointed, as if Trevorrow met his heroes and wasn’t sure what to say. He peppers the movie with callbacks to his first “Jurassic World” movie and the original “Jurassic Park,” but it feels like he wants us to acknowledge that his “World” is as iconic as Spielberg’s “Park.” He’s doing fan service, but he doesn’t fully commit.

And therein lies perhaps the only issue with the movie: Tom Cruise flies so close to the sun he blots out anything that might illuminate a hypothetically talented cast of characters. And that’s OK — it’s a Tom Cruise movie, and Tom Cruise isn’t really an ensemble actor.

Leaning into the sideshow kitsch of a superhero movie about a flying magician in an anthropomorphic cape, Raimi — in a marvelous act of movie prestidigitation — has pulled a cute rabbit from the old Disney hat.

The movie is less interesting than the career of Nicolas Cage, but it’s very funny at moments, and Cage and Pascal have great chemistry.