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stodgy and listless futuristic thriller that only ever echoes other cinematic sci-fi tomorrows.

An effort that's somehow both depressing and trivial.

Midway through, Rapp loses momentum, failing to hone in on just what kind of movie he wants to make, and Winter Passing languishes in that no-man's land between tiny, meandering, indie drama and plotted, pointed family melodrama.

This flawed drama about a self-destructive young actress and her reclusive novelist father has its rewards, mainly in some good performances.

Leo Gregory's performance as Jones fails to capture his rebel charisma, and the film, like its subject, winds up all wet, floating without direction, and lifeless.

Even The Doors looked like a model of clarity next to this.