there’s a sizable chunk of my inheritance waiting for anyone who can explain to me just what the hell david strathairn is contributing to the plot during the last twenty minutes of this one.
this movie rules. it’s completely and utterly incoherent, but it still rules. bring back a two-dimensional bond! i miss the days of 007’s who glowered and posed and fired off bullets and quippy one-liners and had ZERO interiority whatsoever.
MUCH more fun than this dour gloom-head with unresolved ptsd who drinks to stifle the screams of the people he’s killed.
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
Halfway into David Robert Mitchell’s corrosive noir mystery / satire / nightmare Under the Silver Lake, the film’s slacker protagonist Sam (Andrew Garfield, revelatory) takes a minute from investigating the disappearance of his pretty blonde neighbor (Riley Keough, cast, I’m sure, for her ability to reflect both Marilyn Monroe and her own iconic grandfather) to stare out at the Los Angeles skyline and wonder if he “fucked up some long time ago and [was] living the wrong life, like a…