More than two weeks removed and Under The Silver Lake is still proving an uncrackable enigma. Trying to tackle a film when you don't know where you stand with it is something I've never attempted before, so let's see how disastrously this all goes.
Under The Silver Lake concerns itself with Sam (Andrew Garfield), an affable but aimless young man, embroiled in the mysterious and sudden disappearance of his neighbour, Sarah (Riley Keough). With his investigation suggesting a larger conspiracy, Sam, with the help of the author of the Under The Silver Lake zine, finds himself obsessing over the disappearance, rooting through hidden messages embedded in pop culture to lead him back to Sarah. Directed by David Robert Mitchell, Under The Silver Lake is the very definition of the word 'divisive'.
So much of your opinion on Under The Silver Lake will depend on which lens you decide - or eventually determine - to view it through. A satirical deconstruction of society's innate obsession to sensationalise and explicate? A fascinating exploration of the presentation of gender and identity by Hollywood and the media? A criticism of the vapidity in contemporary art and culture? Or simply an accidental by-product of the values it seems to be condemning, validated in a piece of 'everything AND the kitchen sink' filmmaking? Even now, I'm unsure.
Mitchell's script is an almost impenetrable feat of screenwriting. The density of the ideas may not always translate into thematic depth, with no concrete evidence that the film ever achieves what it wants to say because such a goal is continually elusive. Questions are rarely given answers to, with blank spaces in its thought process either by fate or design; once more, it's hard to settle on an answer. Silver Lake's layers morph the more you try to separate them, with your personal interpretations leading to more questions, which give half an answer but more plot holes, leading you back to square one every time. There's complexity to every scene - or is there? Would it turn itself into the thing it spends so long, seemingly, criticising?
While the script fails to come to any sort of narrative consensus, it is far more visually satisfying, with Mitchell's sophomore effort gorgeously, immaculately shot. A sun-drenched Los Angeles is often seen on our screens but there's something rather peculiar about the setting here, infested with serial dog killings and a darker underbelly that aids the film's foreboding mood. With such extraordinary costume and set design (made all the more impressive by the $8.5 million production budget), the heightened, vibrant set pieces ensure the film's darker edge is felt more piercingly as it comes to dominate the second half in particular. Mitchell pulls and prods from 50s noirs for the visual language, with Alfred Hitchcock an unmistakable presence and influence throughout; Disasterpiece's soundtrack goes a long way in evoking the crippling anxiety that forms a considerable part of the suffocating atmosphere, with Mitchell illustrating a strong control over the growing intensity.
Under The Silver Lake concerns itself with Sam (Andrew Garfield), an affable but aimless young man, embroiled in the mysterious and sudden disappearance of his neighbour, Sarah (Riley Keough). With his investigation suggesting a larger conspiracy, Sam, with the help of the author of the Under The Silver Lake zine, finds himself obsessing over the disappearance, rooting through hidden messages embedded in pop culture to lead him back to Sarah. Directed by David Robert Mitchell, Under The Silver Lake is the very definition of the word 'divisive'.
So much of your opinion on Under The Silver Lake will depend on which lens you decide - or eventually determine - to view it through. A satirical deconstruction of society's innate obsession to sensationalise and explicate? A fascinating exploration of the presentation of gender and identity by Hollywood and the media? A criticism of the vapidity in contemporary art and culture? Or simply an accidental by-product of the values it seems to be condemning, validated in a piece of 'everything AND the kitchen sink' filmmaking? Even now, I'm unsure.
Mitchell's script is an almost impenetrable feat of screenwriting. The density of the ideas may not always translate into thematic depth, with no concrete evidence that the film ever achieves what it wants to say because such a goal is continually elusive. Questions are rarely given answers to, with blank spaces in its thought process either by fate or design; once more, it's hard to settle on an answer. Silver Lake's layers morph the more you try to separate them, with your personal interpretations leading to more questions, which give half an answer but more plot holes, leading you back to square one every time. There's complexity to every scene - or is there? Would it turn itself into the thing it spends so long, seemingly, criticising?
While the script fails to come to any sort of narrative consensus, it is far more visually satisfying, with Mitchell's sophomore effort gorgeously, immaculately shot. A sun-drenched Los Angeles is often seen on our screens but there's something rather peculiar about the setting here, infested with serial dog killings and a darker underbelly that aids the film's foreboding mood. With such extraordinary costume and set design (made all the more impressive by the $8.5 million production budget), the heightened, vibrant set pieces ensure the film's darker edge is felt more piercingly as it comes to dominate the second half in particular. Mitchell pulls and prods from 50s noirs for the visual language, with Alfred Hitchcock an unmistakable presence and influence throughout; Disasterpiece's soundtrack goes a long way in evoking the crippling anxiety that forms a considerable part of the suffocating atmosphere, with Mitchell illustrating a strong control over the growing intensity.
Although Under The Silver Lake has proven to be remarkably divisive, Andrew Garfield's entrancing performance as Sam has deservedly inspired universal acclaim. Quite honestly, he is the glue that holds Silver Lake together and without the commitment of his sharply-balanced leading turn, the whole film would crumble around you. Garfield combines a natural charisma that allows the tongue-in-cheek humour to work effectively against the darker irony and sequences of pure terror, enabling him to carry the picture's tonal shifts with aplomb. It's a compelling performance and character that drags you in with real heft; even as you try to resist it through moments of clear self-indulgence crying out for restraint, Garfield convinces you to persevere, enrapturing in his tonally-fluctuating brilliance.
Films like Under The Silver Lake come round only once-in-a-blue-moon and the bold creativity within its script should be championed. It throws everything into a blender but doesn't quite secure the lid, meaning it all spills over into one ferocious concoction of ideas that you're willing to wade through almost solely on the strength of the lead performance. The commentary - if it actually is commentary instead of something incidental to a filmmaker simply flexing his artistic license - is fascinating but frustratingly, frequently convoluted and cryptic to a real fault. While his aesthetical exploitation and subversion of our Sunset Boulevard expectations are where he really shines, David Robert Mitchell's Under The Silver Lake is as narratively perplexing as it is creatively commendable - and maybe that's the art of it all? I still don't know.
Summary: I'm as equally convinced that I loved Under The Silver Lake as I am that I hated it and I can't see that changing for the foreseeable future. It is the most perplexed a film has ever left me.