Caitlin Cronenberg/Central Image Agency
Alynda Wheat
August 16, 2012 05:00 PM

I hate to kick a guy when he’s down, but Robert Pattinson is in dire need of career counseling. Frankly, the man hasn’t been in a good movie since Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and that includes this impenetrable forest of idiocy.

But he’s not really the problem with Cosmopolis, a misfire from director David Cronenberg based on a novel by Don DeLillo.

Pattinson gamely tries to find his way as Eric Packer, a financial guru who takes his stretch limo on an odyssey across town to get a haircut.

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We’re mostly trapped in the car as employees filter through, spouting ridiculous babble about art, time and commerce that’s so artificial it takes two scenes to realize that one of the minions (Sarah Gadon) is Packer’s wife. (Don’t ask why Packer’s urologist hitches a ride.)

The climax is a showdown with a nutcase (Paul Giamatti) who s decided that Packer should die for his sins. At that point it hardly matters what happens to either of them – it’s just so good to get out of the bleepin’ car.

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