Three Thousand Years of Longing

Immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be in Three Thousand Years of Longing, which merges the magic of genie-in-a-bottle fairy tales with a deeply introspective romance that — as the title suggests — spans millennia.

This meticulously crafted fantasy from veteran Australian director George Miller (Mad Max: Fury Road) has all the earmarks of an earnest passion project, as ponderously self-indulgent as it is boldly inventive, bolstered by two stellar performances.

As the film opens, Alithea (Tilda Swinton) is a scholar specializing in narrative storytelling who is heading to a literary conference in Istanbul. When she acquires a rare glass bottle and the cap slips off in her hotel room, a massive djinn escapes.

At first, she tries to shrug off the encounter. “Lately my imagination has been getting the better of me,” she theorizes. “I think it’s a warning.”

As the djinn (Idris Elba) verifies his existence, he comes with an offer of three wishes for Alithea in exchange for his freedom from centuries of captivity and oppression.

Alithea is naturally skeptical, needing more proof before accepting the deal. In the ensuing battle of wits between two figures who specialize in anecdotes, the djinn shares stories of his failed past human encounters, revealing a deeper quest for connection and companionship that strikes a chord.

In a society that caters to short-attention spans, the film celebrates the enduring power of long-form storytelling — both verbally and visually — both as a form of escapist entertainment and also as a vessel for avoiding our own selfish desires and past regrets.

As it thoughtfully explores the power of myths and legends through a hyper-realistic lens, the quirky but enchanting screenplay by Miller and newcomer Augusta Gore — based on a short story by British novelist A.S. Byatt — remains emotionally grounded.

Along the way, the deliberately paced yet quietly perceptive film expands its narrative ambition along with its historical scope. As the lines blur between reality and imagination, and the movie detours into effects-driven flashback sequences, it becomes more muddled when probing its deeper existential quandaries.

You might not discover the meaning of life, but Three Thousand Years of Longing deserves to find an audience amid a marketplace overloaded with sequels and retreads.

Rated R, 108 minutes.