The usual trappings of a genie story are here: the three wishes, the genie’s desperation for his own freedom, the godlike magic acts that make his own eternal captivity, in a palm-sized bottle no less, so ironic. Three Thousand Years is largely an omnibus of the tales that Djinn, as the genie is called, tells about himself, at Alithea’s insistence - she being a student of such tales, after all. The movie is a mixed bag, almost by design. At other times, its attempts to spellbind us with its dreamy, delirious love of stories hits just right, with the stories nested within fully submerging us in their world, making us as captive to this genie’s ingenious histories as Alithea, his front-row audience, must be. At times, Three Thousand Years becomes that awkward thing: a movie about itself, about the tall tales that make movies worth watching and stories worth telling, that in fact fails to feel worth it.
Whether the movie itself has much power or imagination is a separate question. Byatt’s 1994 short story “The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye,” is instead a story about stories themselves: about the power of narrative, the feats of imagination that sustain and connect us. George Miller’s Three Thousand Years of Longing, which is based on A.S. It’s shocking, but this is not a story about shock. The next, a giant Idris Elba, speaking another language and flowing with colorful undercurrents of fire and electricity beneath his skin, has set up shop in the bedroom. One moment, she’s rinsing the bottle off in her hotel sink. Alithea, played by Tilda Swinton, buys a bottle from an old shop, a cultural token for her travels, only to find that it is apparently home to a genie. On a trip to Istanbul for a conference, Alithea Binnie, a scholar of narrative and myth, finds herself swept up into a mythic story of her own.
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