Wright is working more or less within his element here  —  stylized violence surrounded by biting satire (a recurring bit featuring a reality series called“The Americanos”  —  a Kardashian stand-in family  —  is particularly ripe)  — and proves a good match for the material, even as King’s plot starts grinding its gears in the third act. 

For this film, a loose adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s novel Vineland, the shots vary between languid and almost thunderously violent, from the lilting trills in Jonny Greenwood’s soundtrack, to abrasively coarse auditory punch-outs. At times, it’s like the effect of flipping through random channels on your TV, the sudden change of tone and timbre shocking you with their contrast.  

Hart and Cranston are flawlessly cast, and I'd love to see more of their chemistry.

We get a film that feels more like Herzog just killing time before he gets a better idea.