Noir flick hits a Berlin wall

FOR fans of the 2009 sci-fi masterpiece “Moon” (if you’re not one, I can only assume you haven’t seen it), it’s tough not to have high expectations for “Mute,” director Duncan Jones’ self-described “spiritual sequel” to that film (accentuated in the new film by televised cutaways to hearings involving Sam Rockwell’s “Moon” character). But despite a terrific cast and a sexy noir look to rival the two “Blade Runner” films, Jones (son of David Bowie) delivers a bit of a letdown.

Its being a Netflix release, frankly, doesn’t help (it will only run on the big screen in LA). Why relegate such a gorgeously shot film to small screens?

More problematic is that the plot, in which Alexander Skarsgård’s mute bartender goes in search of his missing cocktail-waitress girlfriend (Seyneb Saleh), could be lifted out of 2050s Berlin and set down in nearly any time period, rendering its cyberpunk trap-

pings sort of irrelevant. Skarsgård, who doesn’t need to speak to command attention, has little to do beyond roughing up bad guys and getting teary as he looks at old photos.

The real winners here are Paul Rudd and Justin Theroux as a violent, goofy pair of ex-US military surgeons running black-market operations (pun intended) in Berlin’s seedy underbelly. But it’s never a great sign when your lead is upstaged by supporting players, and for all its good looks, “Mute” doesn’t have a whole lot to say.

In “Mute,” a nearly unrecognizable Justin Theroux steals the show as a former military surgeon involved in the black market.