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UNDER THE SILVER LAKE
Director: David Robert Mitchell Cast: Andrew Garfield, Riley Keough, Topher Grace, Callie Hernandez, Patrick Fischler, Riki Lindhome, India Menuez, Jeremy Bobb, Grace Van Patten, Don McManus, Wendy Vaden Hueval, the voice of Deborah Geffner MPAA
Rating: Running Time: 2:19 Release Date: 4/19/19 (limited); 6/7/19 (wider) |
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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 6, 2019 There comes a moment in Under the Silver Lake when our confused, occasionally violent, and obsessive protagonist confronts the lead singer of a band, convinced that the musician has hidden a secret message in the lyrics of a song. The singer, by the way, is sitting on a toilet, doing some secondary business. This doesn't stop the protagonist, who pulls the singer off the commode and proceeds to aggressively interrogate him. The scene itself is just another moment in which the desire to unravel the various mysteries at the heart of the plot gets the better of the protagonist's mentality, which isn't too great in the first place. There is a shot within that scene, though, that's vital—not to the story, the characters, or the answers to those puzzles, but definitely to how we might respond to the air of constant curiosity that writer/director David Robert Mitchell creates here. Basically, it's an overhead close-up of the inside of the toilet. I won't describe what's in there, because it's exactly what you would expect to be there after someone is yanked from a toilet without flushing. With the gross details established, there are two ways to consider this shot: 1.) It's just a disgusting gag within a movie that already has established a pretty juvenile sense of humor, or 2.) it's something a little deeper in terms of a self-referential joke. Up until this point, Mitchell repeatedly has filled the frame, moved the camera, or cut to some kind of imagery that is wholly significant to Sam (Andrew Garfield), an unemployed slacker in Los Angeles who becomes an amateur detective, and his search for a missing woman. They're clues, essentially. Whether they mean anything to us or to the greater mystery is almost insignificant, because they matter to Sam, who starts seeing evidence of some vast conspiracy in the most unlikely of places and things. Over the course of the movie, Mitchell trains us to look for such things of real or invented significance, because they might matter to the solution or just to Sam. This leaves us with the issue of the filled toilet and an important question: How closely do we actually look at what's inside the porcelain bowl? There is, as far I could gather, nothing in there except what we'd expect. However, isn't it wholly weird that, for even the briefest of moments, we're actually scanning that image for a possible clue? That seems to get to the heart of the joke of Mitchell's strange riff on conspiracy theories, the obsession with modern and nostalgic popular culture, and the ease with which we can insert ourselves into the lives of others—all wrapped up in a neo-noir pastiche. The real question is whether or not Mitchell's approach, which dives into the details of the seemingly meaningless mystery and the process of solving it, unintentionally buys into the subject of the gag and, hence, misses the joke. Sam is looking for Sarah (Riley Keough), a neighbor in the apartment complex from which he's about to be evicted, with whom he spends a single night of flirty getting-to-know-you talk. The next morning, her apartment is empty. Confounded by the sudden departure, Sam sets out to find Sarah and discovers a whole bunch of strange things along the way. To list all of them would be practically impossible. To list most of them would be impractical. To list several of them, though, might give one an idea of the world Mitchell has created. A billionaire has gone missing, too. There's a killer of dogs causing terror among the population, and that mystery, as well as another murderer who wears nothing but an owl mask, is the subject of a locally produced comic book, written and drawn by a reclusive author (played by Patrick Fischler), who is convinced that there are signs of a vast conspiracy everywhere. Sam begins seeing these signs and symbols as he looks for Sarah at various parties, in underground tunnels, and at the home of a songwriter (played by Jeremy Bobb) who claims to have composed several decades' worth of radio hits. This is just scratching the surface of a secret plot, which also involves a treasure map in a box of old cereal and a video game magazine. As Sam scratches through the layers of Mitchell's elaborately constructed and intentionally confusing puzzle, we become increasingly convinced that, while all of it matters (except when the filmmaker seems to drop subplots in a way that just makes them seem like unnecessary appendages to heighten the sense of mystery, such as the dog killer—although the identity of the killer might be suggested late in the movie), none of it actually means much of anything. That seems to be the point of Under the Silver Lake, since Sam becomes more obsessed, more paranoid, and more violent as he gets closer to an answer, while becoming less attentive to matters that directly affect him in the process. Mitchell, though, is himself so obsessed with the specifics of the mystery that the joke—aimed either at Sam or, considering that shot of the toilet, at us—doesn't resonate. Copyright © 2019 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved. |
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(for strong sexual content, graphic nudity, violence, language
throughout and some drug use)
