Directed by:
David Robert MitchellScreenplay:
David Robert MitchellCinematography:
Mike GioulakisComposer:
Rich VreelandCast:
Andrew Garfield, Riley Keough, Grace Van Patten, Riki Lindhome, Jimmi Simpson, Zosia Mamet, Bobbi Salvör Menuez, David Yow, Callie Hernandez (more)Plots(1)
33-year-old Sam (Andrew Garfield) discovers a mysterious woman frolicking in his apartment’s pool. When she vanishes, he embarks on a surreal quest across Los Angeles to decode the secret behind her disappearance, leading him into the murkiest depths of mystery, scandal, and conspiracy. (MUBI)
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Reviews (9)
Hobo´s ///. Mulholland Drive 2018 or WTF³, which will for couple of decades stimulate discussions, analyzes of God knows what including slow-motion sound recordings of a neighbor's parrot played backwards. But in contrast to similar self-serving onanist mindfuck's elusive super weirdness, this one has an insurmountable advantage that puts it alongside the aforementioned best lynch or Donnie Darko. It works on its own, without any effort on the part of the viewer to discover the encrypted meaning of the universe, purely as a hypnotically captivating expedition into the depths of fantasy madness / raised middle finger to all (everything). If you still wanted to know what the hell it's all about, I'd probably tell you “(im) perfection + pothead comedy + paranoid schizophrenia + Henry: Portrait of a murderer = a tribute to classic Hollywood and noir", but much (really much) more apt would be just to bark ... I mean woof, woof!
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Delightful. For many it will understandably be a hard to swallow trip through a town that for the film has the same meaning Bethlehem has for Christians. Mitchell leads the attention unpretentiously, the viewer must focus on the details and the small pop-cultural references to fully enjoy the raggedness and self-reflection of a unique world, where every corner offers something different – always a vague clue, both for the viewer, who’s pushed to several interpretations, and for the protagonist who guides them in that world. The ending is not as dramaturgically solid as the best of Lynch and the runtime feels a bit excessive, but the consistent pace and the coherent author’s signature put the thumbs very well up in the final appraisal. It’s the first film where I didn’t mind Garfield, and if he keeps on choosing interesting projects that offer cinephiles food for thought like this, I might end up liking him. And that applies twofold for Mitchell. 80%
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A strangely atmospheric neo-noir that is imaginatively reminiscent of David Lynch or Nicolas Refn. The hypnotic style, with some very R-rated "what the fuck" moments, is borderline cringe-worthy at times, but David Robert Mitchell has a remarkable ability to sustain that edge honorably. The script spouts one pop culture reference after another, and to some extent, in deciphering all the references to other writers' works, the viewer can well identify with the central character, who is also grappling with all sorts of ciphers and hidden meanings. A film you will either throw away or be fascinated by.
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Considering I once coughed up a script about something similar, it's safe to say that the film should speak my language, except that's exactly the aspect where Mitchell and I are terribly at odds. Mainly in the way the film constantly tries to create that surreal atmosphere of meta-time, but permanently undermines it with constant specific pastiches and quotes that go to such extremes as to use painted canvases as backgrounds. And yet he still couldn't get his way and shoot on film, so we're watching self-conscious references to noir practices in ugly and unforgiving digital, where the paltry budget (8 and a half million) stands out several times worse. In a world populated with Inherent Vice, Brick, or David Lynch, Under the Silver Lake is not worth considering at all.
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Under the Silver Lake consist of lengthy wanderings around LA, people meeting and experiencing bizarre things, between which there are unfortunately no interesting connections that would move the plot forward. It has a fine, noir-like atmosphere with references to Hitchcock and Lynch. Not to mention the sexy girls, especially the main femme fatale, for which Garfield falls head over heels. The script, however, does not work as it should, being nothing more than a pseudo-intellectual fusion of neo-noir with pop-culture ornaments and, above all, a weak "point" which the viewer had vainly hoped would save the whole movie. That said, the film at least has a nice (pop-culture) music score. [Cannes]
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