People who spend way too much time paying attention to behind-the-scenes Hollywood intrigue are excited to see Transcendence because it's the directorial debut of Christopher Nolan's longtime cinematographer, Wally Pfister. (Nolan is a producer of the film.) And Transcendence is for the most part very handsome to look at: We see long, spotless hallways filled with gleaming servers, dusty plains filled with solar panels arching toward the sky, wood-and-glass warrens where technology meets old-world comfort. But those expecting to find the next Christopher Nolan in Pfister should know that things are never that simple. Transcendence isn't as smart as the best Nolan films. It's not as lively as Nolan's best, and it's downright lousy when it comes to portraying the passage of time and the relation of characters in space, which are two things that Nolan has always excelled at. It looks like a movie, but it doesn't tell a story the way good movies do.

At least it starts out well enough. Will Caster (Johnny Depp) is announcing his great steps forward in artificial intelligence, via one of those now-ubiquitous tech CEO presentations. The kind that Steve Jobs made popular. You know the ones: They always compare the announced discovery or product favorably to some of the most important events in human history. They often include stock footage of birds or happy people. The CEO is presented as a kind of guru, delivering enlightenment to us ugly chumps watching at home. But soon enough, Caster is dead, and his mind is uploaded to a computer, and he basically becomes the living embodiment of one of those presentations. He speaks to other characters in the film from screens where a digital simulacrum of Caster talks about the betterment of mankind as a seagull flutters past in the background. He's not the first tech giant to embrace his own bullshit, but he is the first one to live inside the reality that he promises. He's reached tech nirvana. But is Caster even Caster anymore, now that he's been uploaded to the internet?

Transcendence is concerned with the idea of the Singularity, the hypothetical nerd Rapture in which technology improves to the point where nobody ever needs to get sick or die. And the first half of the film handles the topic in a very adult, thoughtful way. Caster's wife, Evelyn (Rebecca Hall) wants to kick-start the Singularity so that she can be with her husband forever. Max Waters (Paul Bettany) is the observer, the audience stand-in who thinks it's pretty cool but is really wary about taking such a big leap. Bree (Kate Mara) is the leader of a "radical neo-Luddite" group that wants humanity to unplug entirely. The movie gives everyone a little space to make their statement, and they all seem to be moving together toward a big climax.

But in the same way that Elysium couldn't solve the question of income inequality with a climactic fistfight, Transcendence is a big-ideas sci-fi movie that collapses when it tries to bring the plot together. The movie jumps forward in time and everything just gets so ridiculous—from Caster's godlike powers to bizarre character choices that never get explained—that the viewer can't be bothered to care anymore. An FBI agent played by Cillian Murphy and an employee of Caster's played by Morgan Freeman have absolutely nothing to do, but they keep showing up at improbable moments. The movie adopts different tones and morals (It's a love story! It's a take-no-prisoners sci-fi epic! It's a tragic Frankenstein story!) until the portentousness and the clumsy storytelling combine to convince viewers that nobody has any clue what this movie is supposed to be about.

But the biggest crime of Transcendence is Johnny Depp's sleepy performance. Here he has an opportunity that not many actors are given: He could've turned Will Caster's digital ghost into a new movie monster for the 21st century, the embodiment of all our neuroses and fears about technology and the internet. Instead, he trudges through every scene and underplays every line, minimizing the character until he practically ceases to exist. There's not one great, or even very good, performance in Transcendence, but Depp is the only actor who completely blows it. Pfister may not have any idea how to take these pretty pictures and turn them into a real movie, but Depp has no such excuse. He's not even trying anymore.