S ummer is when movie studios churn out their"popcorn" flicks: the gross-out comedy, the big-budget disaster film,and the sequel to a movie that didn't deserve a second shot. Like popcorn, thesefilms are predictable and light. But once in a while a film breaks from thebuttery mold. In 1999, that film was "The Sixth Sense." This year, itis "Minority Report."

This is Steven Spielberg's latest forayinto the not-so-distant future opus, a genre he last explored in 2001's"A.I.: Artificial Intelligence." In "Minority," the year is2046 and John Anderton (Tom Cruise) is the head of the Precrime Division of theWashington, D.C. Police Department.

Anderton sees future crimes throughthe visions of three human psychic portals called Precogs so cops can arrest thekillers before they kill. Washington, D.C. has had no murders in six years,prompting Anderton to call the system perfect. But then the system goes afterhim.

"Minority Report" succeeds because it's layered like adouble-decker chocolate and vanilla cake; there's a little something foreveryone. The picture has its share of mouth-gaping chases as Anderton spiralsthrough shopping malls, sci-fi highways, and haven't-I-seen-this-before hotelhallways. But behind the action, the film poses questions: What kinds ofsacrifices make the Precrime system perfect? Are they worth it? What should bevalued more, a state's security or its citizens?

"MinorityReport" cruises through a world somewhere between utopia and dystopia,ablaze in intergalactic Lexuses and spitting jetpacks. It has action, sure. But,please, don't call it popcorn.