In Theaters

THE SCORE. Directed by Frank Oz. Written by Kario Salem, Lem Dobbs and Scott Marshall Smith. 124 minutes. R.

The moment Marlon Brando makes his entrance in “The Score,” the new bank heist film from Frank Oz, the movie wraps itself around him like a bear hug and you sense you’re in for something special.

With his identity concealed beneath a hat almost as large as he is, Brando could initially be mistaken for Orson Welles in “Touch of Evil”; he’s like a mountain of mashed potatoes shoehorned into a suit. But then you notice the familiar lightness of step, the unmistakable charisma, and

before Brando turns to reveal himself to the camera, you know he still has it. You know he’s still great.

Brando was paid $3 million for his appearance in “The Score,” and by my estimation, that comes down to about $150,000 per minute. Hardly cheap, but he’s worth every penny. As Max, the slightly effeminate, scrappy fence who tempts Nick Wells (Robert De Niro) with a score so rich, it will allow each man to retire from fruitful lives of crime, Brando is a marvel, a master actor who took this role to have fun and it shows.

At 77, his age and his size have slowed him down considerably, but his face is still alive with mischief and he’s consistently the most appealing actor on screen. Considering “The Score” also stars Edward Norton as Wells’ accomplice and Angela Bassett as Wells’ girlfriend, that’s saying a lot.

Still, as terrific as its cast is, they aren’t enough to save “The Score” from being too long. After a slick opening that’s lifted by the witty interplay between its characters, the film drowns in the anatomy of its crime. Twenty-five minutes could have been cut from its plodding midsection, but Oz, who has previously only directed comedies (“Dirty Rotten Scoundrels,” and “In & Out”), not to mention serving as the voice behind Miss Piggy and Yoda, bores us with blueprints, photographs, computerized hoo-ha and the like.

It can be a slog, but stick with it. Eventually, the film digs in to deliver a gripping final act, one that respects the genre without cheap theatrics – and one that scores big with a few genuine twists.

Grade: B

FINAL FANTASY: THE SPIRITS WITHIN, Directed by Hironobu Sakaguchi. Written by Sakaguchi, Al Reinert and Jeff Vintar. 105 minutes. PG-13.

Hironobu Sakaguchi’s “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” is a paradox, a film that’s at once exhilarating yet exhausting, thrilling yet boring, masterful yet banal.

Its apocalyptic story of a ruined Earth overcome with soul-eating monsters is hardly new, but since “Fantasy” features such an enormous leap forward in computer animation, it’s impossible to stop watching it even though it would be a pleasure to stop listening to it.

Nothing here is ever as important as the animation, and it shows. The film, which reportedly cost $140 million to produce and which is based on the best-selling video game series Sakaguchi created, is convoluted, cliched, choppy and soulless.

At my screening, you could sense the audience hungering for something more, a richer, deeper story filled with stronger characters that would rise to the level of the film’s countless technical breakthroughs and turn “Fantasy” into a new classic.

The potential is there, but it doesn’t happen. In scene after scene, “Fantasy’s” maddening sci-fi pyschobabble is as irritating as Sakaguchi’s reliance on last-minute rescues as a dramatic device. Throughout, I kept wishing he had just scrapped his script and taken a real risk. If the main reason “Fantasy” exists is to wow us with its superb, photo-realistic animation, why not follow “Fantasia” and just give us the animation?

As it stands, the story and the characters get in the way of a movie that presents a new landmark in film. There are moments here when you realize the future is being revealed and it can be breathtaking, such as when our heroine, Dr. Aki Ross (voice of Ming-Na), tosses her hair and 100,000 strands move in perfect symmetry, or when the film’s translucent monsters, a bizarre cross between a lobster and a squid, rise up to fill the screen like none other.

Still, when the film tries to be too human, the experience can also be oddly sterile, such as when Aki kisses her lover, Gray Edwards (Alec Baldwin). These two may have sculpted bodies that make them look like hardware, but the moment their lips press stiffly together, the illusion bursts. Indeed, there’s never a moment when you don’t believe their coupling couldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for his gigabit – and her gigahertz.

Grade: C+