Nathalie Emmanuel and Adam Driver in Megalopolis (Lionsgate)

There might not be another film this year, or this decade, willing to test the bounds of creative freedom like Megalopolis, the long-gestated passion project of Francis Ford Coppola. After many failed attempts to make it, the director mortgaged nearly his entire vineyard fortune to fund it. Spectacular, indulgent, and without a single wasted moment, it earns the label “unprecedented.” Proudly presented as “a fable,” and a blockbuster that’s also an independent film, it combines intellectual ambitions with lowbrow pleasures.

What is Megalopolis really about? In broad strokes, it’s a sci-fi saga set in an anachronistic and decaying New York (New Rome), where two men with conflicting visions and philosophies battle for control of the city (and its future). Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), an architect, has been granted permission to rebuild it after a Russian satellite has destroyed part of it, using a new material called megalon—its invention earned him a Nobel Prize. Besides his obsession to build a utopia (to be called Megalopolis), he is a widower in mourning. Mysterious circumstances left a cloud of suspicion over whether he killed his wife. He also possesses the ability to stop time. This gift, treated casually, is closer to magical realism than a superhero venture.

Mayor Frank Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), who years earlier pursued the case against Cesar regarding his wife’s death, governs the city with a conservative vision, maintaining the status quo. Then there’s the mayor’s daughter, Julia Cicero (Nathalie Emmanuel), a party girl gradually interested in social causes, who comes into contact with Cesar. Harmless curiosity leads to romance. Julia is also the only one who can perceive Cesar’s time-stopping gift without becoming affected by it.

Moreover, Cesar’s uncle, Hamilton Crassus III (Jon Voight), is a billionaire whose estate is contested between his wayward son, Clodio Pulcher (Shia LaBeouf), and his new wife, the tabloid journalist Wow Platinum (Aubrey Plaza). They want to remove the most suitable heir, our idealistic protagonist. Once the pieces of the game are established, Coppola plays without limits to his imagination, helped by wonderful special effects and breathtaking production designs (and Roman Empire-like attires by Milena Canonero). The octogenarian director has one eye on the past and another on the future, blending old-school Hollywood epics (DeMille’s and Griffith’s spirit lives on), the bold flair of the New Hollywood mavericks he once led, and bombastic 21st-century hyperrealism you’d expect from the Wachowski siblings, Baz Luhrmann, or Zack Snyder. Think of it as a blend of Cleopatra, The Last Movie, and Southland Tales all at once.

Coppola has crafted a fantasy that demands to be taken seriously in its optimistic message of leaving a better world for posterity. It requires something almost impossible for our times: the suspension of cynicism. Occasionally clumsy dialogues and underdeveloped subplots are minor flaws in the long run. Yet Coppola is aware of the ridiculous aspects in his mix of sword/sandals and modern sci-fi, with tones that shift from serious to satirical depending on the occasion. The balancing act works partly thanks to Emmanuel’s tender performance. Driver, for his part, turns what could have been a stiff performance in the hands of a less inspired actor into a portrayal of a megalomaniac freak, preventing the rest of the cast from stealing the spotlight. (Voight, Plaza, and LaBeouf are exquisite regardless.)

Two key sequences demonstrate why this is an experience for the ages. A wedding gives way to a Roman circus celebration, where loyalties and betrayals are played out. Meanwhile, a parade of spectacles unfolds: chariot races; dancing clowns; and a performance by a pop star named Vesta Sweetwater (Grace VanderWaal), whose virginity is auctioned off to the highest bidder. The scene partly fuses the opening wedding in The Godfather with an opera buffa style and echoes of Tinto Brass’s Caligula—Coppola dares to closely examine perversity. Later, another scene occurs that doesn’t exactly count as a spoiler since, logistically, not everyone will have the chance to experience it (those who buy a ticket for “The Ultimate Experience” screening will), involving audience participation.

Megalopolis provides a wild, sexy, baroque ride, despite the undeniable kitsch and the flux of extravagance and experimentation that some might find exasperating. The movie exists against all odds as an act of faith, with its fundamental theme that art can inspire change with compassion. (Coppola has stated that this won’t be his last film, and how not to believe him, even if time stops for no one?) Megalopolis will thrive on the relationship it forms with each viewer. For this critic, at least, it will be an experience to treasure and a work of art I’ll want to revisit.