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Okay, okay. Will Smith is no Ali (but who would have been?). The Greatest is portrayed as more of a spectator to his life than as the Master of Ceremonies he truly was. It's a long film. Historical "compressions," particularly toward the end of the film, will annoy Ali scholars. Rather than a great piece of storytelling, it is a series of snapshots lacking context. And Mann borrows too liberally from Leon Gast's brilliant documentary, "When We Were Kings."

I contest none of these criticisms.

But most are so consumed by what this film ISN'T that they overlook what it IS -- a DAZZLING visual and aural achievement.

One breathtaking shot after another: The Sam Cooke club scenes during the opening credits, Smith's pre-dawn jog in Miami before the Liston fight, the slow-motion shot of Liston's mouthpiece falling to the canvas, the five-minute sequence of Smith's jog through the villages of Kinshasa, and, of course, the stunning closing shot.

For an aspiring cinematographer, this is a master class. The framing, lighting, mixing of film stock (?), richness of color, etc. make multiple viewings a must.

One could argue that the craftmanship gets in the way of the storytelling. And if Mann had billed the film as the Gandhi-like biopic viewers expected to see, this would be a valid critique. But Mann set out to create a stylized, if slightly self-absorbed, art film (God forbid) capturing a handful of key events in Ali's public life. By THAT measure, this film is a spectacular success.

For the boxing fan, the meticulously accurate set design for the fight venues ALONE (Miami Convention Center, MSG, Kinshasa's 25th of May Stadium) was worth the ticket price. Nor will the painstaking detail of the fight sequences be lost on those familiar with these famous fights.

The soundtrack, particularly in/around the the Liston and Foreman fight scenes, is among the best in recent memory, not only for the drama it lends to the scenes, but for capturing a vivid sense of time and place.

And while Jon Voigt has rightly been praised for his Cosell, perhaps the best performance belonged to Jamie Foxx as Ali's Cheerleader in Chief, Drew "Bundini" Brown.

If this film didn't meet your expectations, do yourself a favor and give it a second look.

It goes nearly without saying that Ali is a transcendent figure of his generation. For those currently in their twenties who did not grow up in Ali era, this film is a glimpse at why the world choked up upon seeing Ali light the flame at the Atlanta Olympiad.

While Gast's footage of Ali in Kinshasa is sparse, interview segments with Plimpton, Mailer and Lee, and a pulsing soundtrack fill in the blanks to tell a surprisingly complete tale. The characters are fascinating: A young Don King, who had not yet made his name; a sullen, menacing George Foreman bearing no resemblance to the huckster we see today; the creepy Mobutu, who is rarely seen though his presence is felt, and Howard Cosell, who appears briefly to predict the defeat of the man who practically created him. Far, FAR superior to Michael Mann's Ali, which lifted huge pieces from this documentary. While Mann's film provides much more for the eye, Gast's "Kings" is a superior example of pure storytelling.