The film has an unabashed romantic tone that's matched by Wenders' usual flair for visual drama.

Conceived by U2's Bono, it's not quite as bad as it might have been. After all, its own star, Mel Gibson, has famously called this tale of destitute misfits "as boring as a dog's a——."

Pretentious and trite.

A mellow dream of a movie that's an acquired taste. It's attractive because of the oblique way that Mr. Wenders ambles through a murder mystery that's stronger on characterization than on plot.

Gutter romance meets metaphysical thriller.

So silly it's best taken ironically. But the film, much of it shot digitally, is also astonishingly beautiful.

Wenders creates an imaginative, stylized cityscape, but what's missing is the compelling story that could bring the setting to life.

A fantasy, a fairy tale, but its characters and the emotions they elicit become painfully real.

The film isn't very good. The Million Dollar Hotel is an uneasy melding of Hollywood shtick and art-house sensibilities.

He (Gibson) ramrods his way through the bugged-out hysterics as if he were appearing in a movie that actually made sense. What a brave heart.

If any of these characters were half as resonant as Wenders appears to think they are, the film might have seemed charming instead of merely stranded.

How this hopelessly muddled and tedious dirge got released -- unless it was through the clout of Mel Gibson, who's grafted on as an FBI agent in a neck brace, with no discernible connection to the action -- is the real mystery.

There's a vacancy in The Million Dollar Hotel, and it's between Wim Wenders' ears.

Wenders's The Million Dollar Hotel is something of a monstrosity -- liquored self-indulgence taken to its own astral plane.