The dream movie of any conspiracy theorist. It is a good visually, passably entertaining, passably acted and more on the weaker side as a mystery story that serves as an average watch but more than possibly a forgettable one.

Andrew Garfield portrays Sam, a creepy, voyeuristic, psychotic, paranoid loser who is the first and clearest showing of lazy writing by, also director, David Robert Mitchell, as it is simply a character with no clear personality traits, and it simply goes all over the place (when he is not supposed to be schizophrenic). Garfield tries his best in saving this complete mess of a role and while he succeeds in some respects (the more dramatic and comedic elements), he fails in many others such as his aggressive and depraved nature.

The same can be said for the rest of picturesque characters and performances, some of them being solid (Grace Van Patten as Balloon Girl, and Patrick Fischler as Comic Man) and others simply being too “meh” (for example, Riley Keough as the mysterious Sarah or Bobbi Salvör Menuez as Shooting Star #1). We could go on and on and qualify which characters and performances are stronger or weaker but there are way too many and most of them fall to the weaker side. Only clear cut good are Sky Elobar as the comic book store clerk and Luke Baines as Jesus (both of them have barely a minute of proper screen time but are by far the best), while on the flip side we have Jeremy Bobb as Songwriter who differently to the other two has a significant amount of time and represents, at least that is the intention, a significant and relevant character in the philosophy of the film but it just seems completely ridiculous, idiotic, superfluous and pointless.

And that is basically the main aspect in which this movie sinks completely, its message, its content, its drive, its philosophy simply seems written by someone with no patience nor real or profound knowledge of what he is talking about. Providing soulless, rushed, and uncaring analysis on pop culture, wealth, fame and the meaning of life itself. This same unclear focus is perceived in the plot and style of the film, starting through a quite classically cut noirish feel but evolving into a failed surrealistic mess driven by random turns and topped by an underwhelming (and insufficient in many respects) revelation. It just feels like Mitchell tries very hard in bridging together Hitchcock and Lynch but fails miserably in the process.

But now, after this fairly destructive look into the film (excepting some few elements) let’s also give it some props, which it mostly relies heavily, if not completely, on its visual presentation. The good work photography, editing, sets and costume displays very clearly how what Mitchell probably had mainly in mind were a series of vignettes and images, more than a movie per se, and some of those are actually quite fun. From comic book style animation to weird and fun sexual scenes, quirky parties, or painted backdrops, the movie actually provides some engaging sequences and shots making it still a bit enjoyable.

In other words, Mitchell should have left his ideas still mature for a while before jumping into the making of this film. From it, he could have extracted up to four or more different original stories that with a clear aim could have been better and more fully presented leaving the spectator fully satisfied with both its plot and imagery. Through the way he approached, you sense that he got the ideas and, above all, images in his head, he just needed a bit more of patience in dealing with his own material before producing this messy soup.