(In theaters, November 2004) I would have believed it if I hadn’t had three hours to find out for myself, but it’s true: Oliver Stone has taken one of the most inspiring life in history and made a boring movie out of it. This lavish biography of Alexander the Great frequently fails to deserve any attention at all. Despite the epic scale, the wonderful actors, the convincing re-creations and the sheer bloody length of the picture, Alexander bores and annoys. The trouble is obvious even from the first ten minutes: Lengthy monologues make it obvious that this won’t be a snappy picture even as the quality of the lines falls through the floor. Yikes. It doesn’t really get any better afterwards: The adult Alexander takes too long to be brought on-screen; A massive battle scene that could have been impressive had it been half as long just feels flaccid; narration is used to reinforce the action on-screen rather than provide crucial context; Colin Farrel never plays Alexander as someone worthy of respect. While the film tries to do much in terms of character psychology, the only characters with whom we sympathize are the soldiers who just want to go home after eight years on the road; certainly, Alexander has begun to feel just as long by then. Would I be the generous sort, I’d give a single star to the film on the sole basis of Rosario Dawson’s pendulous assets. But by this point, I fear that I may have imagined her nude scene in-between bouts of somnolence. Oliver Stone. Boring. Who would have thought?