Oppenheim, a talented documentarian (Some Kind of Heaven, Ren Faire), basing the film on Luke Dittrich’s seminal Esquire article, “Tonight on Dateline This Man Will Die,” takes a kind of interpretive tack with Hansen. As portrayed by the ever-twisty Pattinson, the line between his performative self (thrusting out from behind a literal curtain with the professionally grave, self-important sweep of a high-school principal, or maybe a mortician) and his actual self with his wife and kids, gets smudged into a dark smear, leading him deeper into psychosis. At one point, when one of Hansen’s perp-jump scares goes wrong, he lies down in a fetal position and sinks into a fugue state, unable to be reached by the increasingly agitated Andie.

A similar scheme is hatched in Paul Feig’s film, although I have to be extremely vague about the details so as not to ruin the carefully plotted set-up. Suffice it to say, there’s a good chance you will utterly loathe the film as I did for almost the entire first two acts before the reward comes your way. 

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.  

If the beauty of the classic Western at least partially lies in its dependably simplistic morality  —  a villain doing wrong; and a hero stopping them cold  — the modern “neo-western” as Ari Aster’s satirically topical film has often been classified, becomes almost the literal opposite: A film where morality shifts and scuttles about, before getting bludgeoned, shot, blown up, and, eventually paved over and turned into a high-tech office building. 

Memory stands out from the other Liam Neeson action movies because it finally addresses how age affects even the deadliest among us.

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent suffocates amid the challenge of its central stunt casting and doesn’t approach the level of crazy that you expect until too late.

The Outfit squeezes every ounce of ambience from its seemingly limited surroundings.

Nightmare Alley suffers from pacing issues as it essentially packs two movies into one.

Malignant evokes horror movies of a bygone era and builds slowly to an amazingly bonkers reveal and finale.

The shaky supports of the final act give way completely, plunging what’s left of our interest into the dark, cold abyss.

Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard fails to deliver a solid hit and instead sprays jokes like bullets everywhere to see which ones reach their targets.

At times, Cruella is both brilliant and bland.