What if we stop using
our tidy little labels «Buddhist,» «New Age,» etc., and start looking at life in terms of Truth, a subject with which the Matrix seriously dealt.
Some of the expositional shorthand towards the end of it (like the
tidy little cans of dirt in the bag of Tom Sizemore's Sgt. Horvath, each neatly
labeled with their country of origin) is a
little too easy, but we're disappointed to discover that Robert Rodat's script isn't taking the risks we thought it was with that long opening sequence — he's merely reshuffling, postponing until after the battle the kind of sluggish exposition and historical pageantry we were so thankful that the picture was skipping.