There’s an axiom in science-fiction that the reader/viewer will accept only one element that is a complete stretch of the imagination, and everything else must seem grounded in reality. If that’s how one judges Steven Spielberg’s latest futuristic tale, then the film is an unqualified success.

The central idea of “Minority Report”  that a psychic task force is able to stop murders the instant before they happen  is difficult to swallow for a variety of ethical and conceptual reasons. But the rest of the movie is thoroughly persuasive in what life in 2054 might be like.

From the suburbs to the inner city, from travel to entertainment, Spielberg and his cast and crew document the everyday existence of coming generations with stunning clarity. In the film, fingerprint technology has become as outdated as phrenology. Individuals are now identified by retina imprints. Not only does this make security tighter  criminals must literally have their eyeballs surgically replaced to evade capture  but it allows for advertising to be even more intrusive.

Holographic salespersons speak directly to the customer when walking into stores such as The Gap. “We remember you liked these slacks from your last visit in April, Mr. Jones, and we have them in new fall colors.”

Cereal boxes feature moving cartoons.

Magnetic levitation powers urban transportation systems.

And murder is erased before it can happen.

At least it is in Washington, D.C., where the violent city has remained free of homicide for 6 years thanks to a radical new program run by the Department of Pre-Crime. Chief John Anderton (Tom Cruise) has sunk his faith into the system and the man (Max Von Sydow) who helped establish it. They are both anxious to make sure everything goes smooth since the rest of the country is preparing to ratify a national Pre-Crime initiative.

When the unit’s trio of Pre-Cogs (genetically enhanced psychics who exist in a liquid suspension chamber) dream of an impending murder, Anderton is the first to discover that he will be the actual killer. Deciding to run from the law, Anderton has 36 hours to figure out why his fate is to gun down a complete stranger.

“Minority Report” embraces rather than avoids its fundamental paradox: “It’s not the future if it didn’t happen.” In certain respects, this is a time travel movie since different realities are constantly in play to the participants. And indeed, the film’s punchline involves how the past will alter the future and ultimately damage the present.

Spielberg has great fun finding ways to move within this time flow. At one point, Anderton kidnaps/frees the female Pre-Cog Agatha (a nearly embryonic-looking Samantha Morton) and together they attempt to elude armored police. Agatha uses her clairvoyance to aid their escape, orchestrating perfect moments where a random object will conceal them from view or a discarded item will impede their pursuers.

It’s tempting to compare this effort with Spielberg’s daring (and ultimately frustrating) “A.I.” But his latest bears more direct ties to two other films. In its account of a law enforcement hunter becoming the hunted, it is much like the 1976 fantasy “Logan’s Run.” But more appropriately is its link to 1982’s “Blade Runner.”

Like “Minority Report,” that tale was based on a short story by the late Philip K. Dick. The prolific author was particularly versed in how futurism affected culture. “Minority Report” is more a logical extension of the “science eclipsing emotional capability” themes in “Blade Runner” rather than a retread. Both fall into that very rare category of science fiction aimed at adults. (If only Spielberg would loan his buddy George Lucas a little of this intellectual acreage for the next Star Wars sequel.)

Although “Minority Report” hinges on a crafty moral dilemma during its final act, the movie almost grinds to a halt in getting there. Most of the story is driven by a sense of urgency (witness how the tension builds during an opening scene where Anderton is racing to prevent a crime of passion). Yet once the film hits what turns out to be its false climax, the further added layers of plot trickery almost suffocate the momentum. If Spielberg and screenwriters Jon Cohen and Scott Frank (“Out of Sight”) had been able to find a way around this, they could have created one of the landmark entries in the genre.

One other awkward aspect involves the film’s visuals. Spielberg and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski (who’ve collaborated on the director’s last five pictures) solely employ washed-out colors, devoid of reds or greens. The tactic  supposedly adopted to simulate a film noir texture  is often so fuzzy that it’s distracting.

Since this future is apparently free of pastels, how will that affect sales at The Gap?

It’s no great surprise that Spielberg falters during the final moments. The “greatest director of his generation” hasn’t delivered a decent ending in a decade. Only this time it isn’t his proclivity for sentimental pandering; it’s simply the age-old inability to craft a solution as stimulating as the mystery that preceded it.

That’s hardly a crime. And it’s about the only thing predictable about this visionary endeavor.