The Sweet East (Sean Price Williams, 2023)

[therewillbeblus]

The Sweet East

This one should be enter with as little information as possible, but it’s the best movie of the year so far; a singular experience of post-ironic Americana exposé filtered through a fairy tale of surreal banality, whose prankish concerns with saying nothing actually say everything. Anyways, I took the following straw-grasping mental notes as this little slice of Art was casting its hypotonic spell on me:

-This would be excellent counter-programming to Beau is Afraid, and Assassination Nation for that matter - taking ideas from both far less seriously in a kind of Wenders' Wrong Move-toned Alice in Wonderland vibe
-Unsurprisingly, given Williams’ frequent collaborator, this is shot like The Color Wheel by way of Norman J. Warren (and very much in that sharp yet humble style, occasionally sliding a bit into Michael J. Murphy territory of slapdash editing (albeit, self-consciously and controlled)
-The chaotic outbursts that awaken Sleeping Beauty to move her bed introduce set pieces with new characters that flow like After Hours if written by Hunter S. Thompson in the midst of a binge - and it’s going to send fans of the subgenre of One Crazy Night dark comedies into giddy fits when those moments come, as it should
-It should be mandatory for Talia Ryder, Simon Rex, and Jeremy O. Harris to be in every modestly-budgeted indie flick from now on
-If Nick Pinkerton has secretly been the next Charlie Kaufman with Sam Levinson sensibilities, I’m here for it

[furbicide]

The Sweet East

This one should be enter with as little information as possible, but it’s the best movie of the year so far; a singular experience of post-ironic Americana exposé filtered through a fairy tale of surreal banality, whose prankish concerns with saying nothing actually say everything. Anyways, I took the following straw-grasping mental notes as this little slice of Art was casting its hypotonic spell on me:

-This would be excellent counter-programming to Beau is Afraid, and Assassination Nation for that matter - taking ideas from both far less seriously in a kind of Wenders' Wrong Move-toned Alice in Wonderland vibe
-Unsurprisingly, given Williams’ frequent collaborator, this is shot like The Color Wheel by way of Norman J. Warren (and very much in that sharp yet humble style, occasionally sliding a bit into Michael J. Murphy territory of slapdash editing (albeit, self-consciously and controlled)
-The chaotic outbursts that awaken Sleeping Beauty to move her bed introduce set pieces with new characters that flow like After Hours if written by Hunter S. Thompson in the midst of a binge - and it’s going to send fans of the subgenre of One Crazy Night dark comedies into giddy fits when those moments come, as it should
-It should be mandatory for Talia Ryder, Simon Rex, and Jeremy O. Harris to be in every modestly-budgeted indie flick from now on
-If Nick Pinkerton has secretly been the next Charlie Kaufman with Sam Levinson sensibilities, I’m here for it

I was really impressed with this film too, and hope it will attract more attention.

The thing that I found most fascinating about The Sweet East was how authentically dreamlike the film was, in its episodic shifts between characters and milieus – because that's how the most vivid dreams tend to be (nothing whatsoever like most cinematic dream sequences, which usually consist of a montage of symbols or surreal juxtapositions). The film manages to feel strange and otherworldly in a really interesting way while still working as a fairly cynical satirical commentary on America's (particularly online) descent into niche, battling subcultures.

I can definitely understand why it would rub some people the wrong way – it kind of wears its edgelord sensibilities on its sleeve – but I feel like we need more of that spiky and provocative quality in cinema, honestly. Plus, there are some great performances and characterisations in here.

[therewillbeblus]

Yeah, ethereally dreamlike one moment but also so palpably textured the next, which is why it evoked artists who seamlessly branch different stylistic aims. Norman J. Warren came to mind, specifically for how he films the couple walking through foliage in Satan's Slave. This would make a great double feature with Assassination Nation, but only as the antidote. It could even be viewed as a continuation - as the only place Lily has left to turn: Into a fantasy world of careless, numbed adventures off the map from her town's condensed witch hunt, and yet finding nothing worth hanging around for.

[Red Screamer]

Not much of The Sweet East worked for me, which was disappointing given how good Williams’ work as a cinematographer usually is. The debut awkwardness is most obvious in his uneven handling of performances, with some actors coming off as painfully amateurish, while others, like Ayo Edebiri and Jeremy O. Harris, take the film’s sketch comedy looseness and run with it, making their scenes much funnier than they have any right to be. This unevenness isn’t helped by the fact that the film's first stop in Wonderland, a punk house, is also the section with the worst performances, which are in turn paired with some of its most thuddingly on-the-nose writing—This punk acts like a bohemian but actually, he has rich parents; These guys call themselves a political organization but they're so dumb they basically get lost in an open field.

Indeed, the real problem with the movie is Pinkerton’s script. He has a bad habit of writing down to his characters, and the mix of smartass overwriting and ironic crassness is an unpleasant combination landing somewhere between grad student homework and an episode of Family Guy. In the former category: the film opens with the Pledge of Allegiance and ends with a shot of the American flag, which should give you a good idea of both the filmmakers’ pretensions and their reflexive handholding. In the latter category: we find out that, not only is that punk a poser, he’s got a pierced dick, which he proceeds to whip out. For the former: the Simon Rex episode, about an older man attracted to an underage girl, has a litany of gratuitous Lolita references—Rex is a lepidopterist, like Nabokov, and a Poe-loving professor, like Humbert Humbert. At one point, he even quotes the exact lines of the Poe poem that make up one of the central motifs (and the original title) of Nabokov’s novel. For the latter: a climatic scene attempts to wring broad comedy out of graphic violence and "chaos" in the worst tradition of prefabricated midnight movies. And so on.

I know Williams reveres Robert Downey Sr. (whose films I don’t enjoy) and I guess was inspired by him here so, at the end of the day, maybe it was never going to be my thing. But some of it is just bad, smug filmmaking. I loved the opening credits though.

[therewillbeblus]

I think we are viewing this film as having different intentions on a fundamental level. Those are obviously fair details to be annoyed by point-blank, but I don't think it's lost on either Williams or Pinkerton that they're playing into well-trodden clichés, and so it seems necessary for the context of these criticisms to be considered within a post-ironic rather than baldly ironic framework. What elevates The Sweet East beyond smugness is its post-ironic tint that has zero ambitions to be uniquely ironic or expose something new, but some ambitions to demonstrate how banal even the surreality of ironies embedded in subcultures and human behavior are, and to explore what such an attitude -that instinctively assumes these ironies- produces in an individual. That latter query is admirably not resolved or overstated the way its dressings (intentionally) are. It seems best to situate this in the context of Wenders' Wrong Move, only I'm not even convinced that Talia Ryder's enigmatic lead is really seeking stimulation with wide-eyed hopes and dreams. I don't think she's that naive, but rather just going off course from what's boring and expected, and then finding herself back to some version of familiar numb. Every absurd derailment is painstakingly followed through its dissipation into petty contrivances and Sisyphean returns to the same lonely, introverted, sedative state.

Assassination Nation is on-the-nose too, but what it's saying is strung together in a novel way to arrive at a different kind of affective statement, like this. I don't think either film is smug or condescending or believes itself to be episodically profound; their radical or clever value comes from splicing together the base ironies to create both a funny and sincere study on a state of fatalistic social capture, with quite polarized attitudes by its divergent surrogate vehicles in each film! The nonchalant response by Ryder here is deceptively more potent than its airy, aloof shrug suggests, which is an unconcerned attitude by the filmmakers. Both films are synced with their protagonists, but while Assassination Nation never fails to show its feelings in plain sight - emotions aesthetically suppressed and erupting right with Lily, The Sweet East is less forthcoming about how it feels about Lillian’s potential apathy. It’s meeting the world where it’s at with a bent version, but primarily concerned with what she’s showing us - perhaps unaware of the innerworkings of her mind, feelings, body, and maybe, defensively, in the next stage of Lily: not particularly caring.

I gather that the filmmakers deeply care about this observation, and just have the audacity to not explore it with any kind of false-lucid lighting, while also cheekily shooting a bunch of superfluous details (as everything is on her “journey” - just like that particular Wenders road movie) with surging clarity. It’s no wonder the film is defined and pronounced but only in a haze, surrounding Lilith and protecting her from us and the filmmakers as much as from the world of the film. All that I come away with tangibly is that this protection - something we all have in our own unique shape and form - that lowers or nullifies expectations, also does the same for potential to experience surprise and joy. If today’s youth has been given the tools and/or burden to evolve beyond the arousals of being caught off guard (read: a more thorough, curious and observant tactic to engage with the “today’s youth is so desensitized” jabber), what does that do to a person, and how should we feel about that? Can we feel the strengths in resilience as well as the fatalistic tragedy? That’s the best I can describe my experience with this film, which elicits primarily elliptical sensations for me as answers. I believe dolling it up in those easy zeitgeist-y targets is a running joke to a sour, sincere punchline.

All the things you didn't like about this film are obviously fair to dislike, I just don't think it's approaching these subjects with the "Family Guy"-style ironic intent you seem to be evaluating it through (Also, I really don't mean this to read as a "You didn't get it" post; I've read blurbs from critics who didn't like the film either but still formulated their criticisms through that post-ironic lens, so I'm genuinely curious as to your reading of this intention, with the possibility entirely open -as always- that I'm misinterpretating your post)

[finitebody]

I must say that what compelled me the most about the journey Lily goes on in this film relates much more to a virtual, online experience on social media like Twitter, bookended by a lame mundanity. Particularly as a 15/16 year-old on Twitter, I found myself wordlessly compelled to a variety of intense, interesting voices online, surfing their worlds and understanding their hyperspecific philosophies as much as a normal high schooler could. And how Lily surfs through these people's ideologies makes me think of how many American teenagers are exposed to a spectrum of (socio)political voices: with a curious numbness, an unceasing dry humor, adopting anecdotes and knowledge for social use, and really just there for the inescapable, chaotic, apocalyptic ride that this is the state of the U.S. The moments when Lily is not within this surrealistic chain of misadventures, she's confined to a mundane world that is unrealized and generally pathetic, restrained to only being spectators to chaos. Its safe, but its not worth the comfort to her. I see her delving into these wild situations as some sort of coping with the irreparably disheveled sociopolitical moment by personally participating its unstable thrill, for both a novel brand of political- and self-actualization. Perhaps its the same with American teenagers and sociopolitical media online where their realities present a hollow banality meanwhile a more thrilling, in-touch, inviting, surreal world seems to be taking place online.

To me, that's what this film is speaking to. I've realized a fair amount of flaws all across the movie, but I still found it entertaining and contemporary.. which feels rare nowadays.

[Red Screamer]

I thought that aspect of the movie was modeled on Bresson’s The Devil Probably, but for me the comparison doesn’t do it any favors since Williams’ film doesn’t go beyond the surface in terms of offering the protagonist interesting choices or a convincing portraiture of the different cultures and groups. It stops at the level of smug internet surfing.

[therewillbeblus]

I know I asked this a few months back, but I'll give it another shot: Based on your initial writeup, it seems that you are viewing this film as failing in its efforts to capture fresh ironic observations with a masturbatory pervasion of "look-at-me Wit" (or something like that?) rather than failing at successfully reframing its irony as a post-ironic desensitized drift. I haven't heard anyone make that first claim, and while I won't pretend to have read every article, review, or thinkpiece on this film, even its (many) detractors seem to focus on the second reading. If you see it the first way, I'd be interested to hear more. That would be a welcome fresh perspective, rather than jousting critics who seem to ultimately condescend to the practice of creating post-ironic art at all because it's various levels of annoying

[therewillbeblus]

I must say that what compelled me the most about the journey Lily goes on in this film relates much more to a virtual, online experience on social media like Twitter, bookended by a lame mundanity. Particularly as a 15/16 year-old on Twitter, I found myself wordlessly compelled to a variety of intense, interesting voices online, surfing their worlds and understanding their hyperspecific philosophies as much as a normal high schooler could. And how Lily surfs through these people's ideologies makes me think of how many American teenagers are exposed to a spectrum of (socio)political voices: with a curious numbness, an unceasing dry humor, adopting anecdotes and knowledge for social use, and really just there for the inescapable, chaotic, apocalyptic ride that this is the state of the U.S. The moments when Lily is not within this surrealistic chain of misadventures, she's confined to a mundane world that is unrealized and generally pathetic, restrained to only being spectators to chaos. Its safe, but its not worth the comfort to her. I see her delving into these wild situations as some sort of coping with the irreparably disheveled sociopolitical moment by personally participating its unstable thrill, for both a novel brand of political- and self-actualization. Perhaps its the same with American teenagers and sociopolitical media online where their realities present a hollow banality meanwhile a more thrilling, in-touch, inviting, surreal world seems to be taking place online.

Interesting read! Going into this again, I'm looking at it similarly, though more as a fairy tale of what happens when a member of gen z, indoctrinated to the gravity of online culture during formative years, constantly attempts to touch grass more permanently ("This was your idea, after all" - the early retort lets us know she pushed for the trip, perhaps to try to engage with the world, wanting to want it - or the idea of it) only to find that Real Life now mirrors Twitter/X, just a lot slower. Whether that's her projection, a fairy-tale into reality's languid pacing ironically populated with the same people with the same tells (of course), or face-value, it works. I'm noticing a lot of the dialogue reads like an online chat, Simon Rex's in particular, and the rest feels like broad versions of awkward online behavior, surrounding a narrative where the world revolves around Ryder, like a kid at a keyboard, or a star-eyed kid from a small community exposing herself to culture as if it's her's to consume. Talia Ryder's engagement with all the ironies and stereotypes and eccentricities around her, holding the same disposition around a relatively-concentrated, somehow deadpan and stimulated look, signifies something both hilarious and terrifying. The film sustains a singular offbeat tone under familiar trappings until it becomes a totally unique piece of art altogether.

I don't think it's really critiquing anything either, or that's not the main purpose. The low-hanging fruit are dressing for something darker and sadder it's protecting - a defense mechanism of morphed apathy and passion, equaling what of value? The film doesn't proclaim itself to be of value in a didactic manner. It's flavorful (Hey, let's start this off with an original tune!) but not superior or condescending in its insights (sure, the closest cousin is early-ARP, so there's some pretentiousness, though the themes aren't being guided under that guise). If anything, I imagine Pinkerton was inspired to write this by his two 'selves': from the part of him that can objectively observe and discern patterns and minutia of people and cultures around him; and the part that is reactive and obnoxious and part-'knows it', and part-'doesn't-care', like his star. Except they both do, otherwise Ryder wouldn't have been motivated to initiate the trip, and Pinkerton wouldn't care to explore these feelings through ideas, the feelings we can chew on these days. I think it's expressing a common, lonely pathos in a creative way towards an audience that just might connect to it - and it's easier to connect to that part of it, perhaps, if we have some wild comic set pieces to a) help us digest it, and b) cause a more jarring dissonance between the playful nature and the dullness it coats, the mild thrills Ryder finding always reverting back to zero. I don't think Pinkerton believes his surrender is special, nor is its anti-bildungsroman special for road movies, and even the way he's communicating it along a series of wacky adventures isn't. But the whole thing sewn together, and particularly how it's shot as if existing between de-personalized fantasy and hyper-reality (there's a reason a.. well, this cinematographer is helming this movie) is what makes it special. The end seems to lean directly into the delusion 'these movies' establish once again, and that this one is actively subverting, which makes you do a double take. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it, but it works as both a gag and a genuine existential compromise.

[Red Screamer]

I know I asked this a few months back, but I'll give it another shot: Based on your initial writeup, it seems that you are viewing this film as failing in its efforts to capture fresh ironic observations with a masturbatory pervasion of "look-at-me Wit" (or something like that?) rather than failing at successfully reframing its irony as a post-ironic desensitized drift.

It's difficult to respond because, frankly, I can't figure out what you're saying. For me, the movie doesn't have a notable deployment of either irony or "post-irony", a term I had to Google (it seems to have been a flash-in-the-pan term I'm too young for? #MemberOfGenZIndoctrinatedToTheGravityOfOnlineCultureDuringFormativeYears) and came away only with contradictory, vague definitions which leave me unconvinced that it's a useful classification or idea. I'm not sure I can find the line between David Foster Wallace and Tao Lin and The Sweet East. Even if I did, it wouldn't improve its mismatch of direction and writing or the unimaginative, faux-energetic visual style. It seems you're saying the filmmakers are using lazy Lolita references and decades-outdated clichés of punks on purpose; that the SNL-style wacky shootout is intentionally unfunny and canned; To what end?

As I said before, the movie begins and ends on the Pledge of Allegiance and a shot of the American flag, and positive reviews, including in this thread, tend to praise it for its State of the Union satire, its contemporaneity, what it's saying about its era and its country—so on a real level, yes, I think that's part of what the movie is attempting and failing at. The layers of a more multifaceted approach would require a main character whose personality and point of view are more distinct from those of the filmmakers or a worldview that goes beyond extremes and condescension—which I don't inherently have a problem with if they're executed with finesse and wit. Since Williams is swinging by my neighborhood with the film this week, I'm considering giving it another chance. Maybe I'll have more to say then.

[therewillbeblus]

I think the shootout is funny, but it's absurd and subversive, some people take things seriously while others maintain their characters and setting up the scene amidst the chaos. Nobody knows why these people are here, nobody really cares to know and just expect it as part of the internal logic of their world on some level when things erupt. So the 'problems-catching-up-to-you' part of the road narrative also ends in a divergence to reject bildungsroman expectations. I appreciate the feedback, and tried to get at how I see the film upthread to help separate the two ideas, but (to oversimplify) an ironic script that's smug would be a nudgy 'hey look at this insight, pretty great right?' whereas a post-ironic demonstration accepts that in this world everything is ironic at base, and then reacts to that, usually in a kind of deadpan apathy, at least in the poetry I've read that identifies as that 'genre'. Post-irony and post-post-modernism are terms I heard about ten years ago from a good friend who is Gen Z, the group I believe created it or at least who it's 'for'! He wrote a little book I can guide you towards, if you're interested, but I see the film less focused on the "brilliance" of its observations, than it is delighted at giving us particularly-novel spins on familiar personalities that isn't going to spark awe as much as nod to these banal people and exchanges desperately trying to assert enthusiasm in isolation, and use them as contrast and evidence of the initial quest's failures to evade the predictable social world bleeding through all forms of communication at this point, and not offering much more. When an eye isn't batted and a body isn't startled at the reveal that a secret basement door does exist, that says it all. Ryder has become so desensitized that basic physiological responses don't occur, but then there are bits throughout the narrative where she finds a new area to rest in. I see these as both the stimulations of 'meaning of life' experiences, and signals that these are fleeting and ultimately lead us into old complacent states in new contexts, so more ambiguous about the utility the journey is providing than many unfavorable responses suggest, even if it's not ambiguous at all about what it's not providing! Perhaps the resilience of today's youth is in desensitization, acceptance of the world (as ironic), and then rising to meet its new form where it's at, even if you're destined to wind back in the same place, like a Sisyphean existentialist reframe.

[diamonds]

decades-outdated clichés of punks

There's definitely a cliched element to these '80s punk anarchists, but they coexist with a litany of characters who are remarkably unique and not cliched at all, like the 'twin' filmmakers with '70s disco style who make black-and-white period pieces. This casually reflects my experience of living in America: some people conform to cliches, and some don't. I don't see it as any kind of weakness—let alone a fatal one—that the film sometimes presents stereotypes.

You say that the Lolita references are "lazy" and "gratuitous." But why are they either of these things? Are they being used to advance some sort of point you find obvious or offensive? Or are they simply there to give color to a character, regardless of whether the viewer recognizes them as references? The Poe references are there from the start with the film's

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theme song,

part the film's fascination and play with American iconography.

Regarding the film's supposed contemporariness, the film also plays with the idea that the country's fractured nature extends to its sense of time or history. Pockets exist where time is not synchronized. You have the bleeding-edge new (the pierced-prick punk's digital noise art) coexisting with the neo-Nazi's antiquated style. Abbots are a stone's throw away from EDM raves. I think the film shares Lillian's sarcastic view of the British actor's (cliched) observation that America is a young country and wants to make clear the country has history, and this interest in the old makes the 'contemporary' label a dubious fit. How many modern American films root themselves in Griffith? He's all over The Sweet East. (Tangent: I don't think Lillian is any sort of Gen Z avatar or even a particularly modern character, but I'm not currently ready to expound on this point.)

I loved this film, and for what it's worth I don't think it has any interest in being a pointed satire or making grand political/cultural statements of any kind. As far as "politics" go, it's simply a proudly American movie with its eyes and ears open to all the weird characters and (sub-)cultures squirreled away in this vast land. And I never got the sense that the movie is "writing down" to the characters—I think it has a lot of gentle affection for all of the weirdos that fly across the screen.

[Red Screamer]

If you’re writing a certain type of narrative and choose to continually reference what is by far the most famous example of that narrative instead of inventing things for yourself (again, the Poe/Annabel references themselves are also Nabokov’s, down to the exact lines of the exact same poem. The narrative arc and the imagery, on the other hand, are borrowing more from Kubrick’s version), yes, it runs a high risk of being lazy. What do the Poe references add to the film or what does the film add to Poe? I don’t buy that it’s part of some Americana portraiture or meta pop art mashup. For one thing, Poe is more of a cultural icon in France than in the US—but I’m getting off track. More importantly, the characterizations and local color you mention seem to me to be most often designed around punchlines, easy effects, and sudden reversals more than any real-world counterparts.

As I said originally, the filmmaker duo were my favorite characters on first viewing. I took them as a parody of theory-heavy academic filmmaking, but maybe I was off the mark.

I can’t square how a movie can have no interest in making political or cultural statements while also being proudly American, rooted in Griffith, and based on a fascination and play with American iconography.

[therewillbeblus]

It doesn't have to be making statements, it can just be making observances that enrich its identity, and while I'm not convinced the film is "proudly American," the existential compromise I alluded to is a version of that.. not a "look at how affectionately weird we are" for the purpose of persuasion, but a shrug of, "what else am I doing to do?" I guess try to get meaning from observances and attempt to engage, despite the obstacles gravitating us back to a zero at every turn.. the adventure is still all we have to do, when the alternative is staying put.

After finishing it a second time, I'm not convinced Ryder is some Gen Z Cypher either, at least not in terms of tightening her function - she's certainly intended to be a broader point of identification. I do think she's representative of the dynamic between coercive desensitization and willful drive to be stimulated that we're all dealing with in some way, but her age and generational behavioral idiosyncrasies feel real and specific, and so I think it's fair to look at the film both ways: as a collage of observances we can all access, but from the perspective of who's going to "run this country" next, which only adds another bitter layer to this whole thing. There's very little that's inspiring about this film for me, other than perhaps that, by de-emphasizing the utility older generations place on things - pointing out ironies as of vast importance and issues to be fixed, etc., instead of organic and sometimes a waste of effort to challenge - we may evolve into a simpler, more mindful culture, after we all just start dismissing the flux of content thrown in our face. A sublimation of desensitization. Ryder's liberated self-actualization in how she responds to people and groups who are trying to sensitize her beyond where she's 'at' feels indicative of all that social pressure to meet one's enthusiasm. Neutralizing a response to that might be how we all come down from this adrenaline rush of a nightmare.

[diamonds]

If you’re writing a certain type of narrative and choose to continually reference what is by far the most famous example of that narrative instead of inventing things for yourself (again, the Poe/Annabel references themselves are also Nabokov’s, down to the exact lines of the exact same poem. The narrative arc and the imagery, on the other hand, are borrowing more from Kubrick’s version), yes, it runs a high risk of being lazy. What do the Poe references add to the film or what does the film add to Poe?

I think Lolita occupies a place in the culture that is so big as to become simply unavoidable when dealing with a depiction of this kind of relationship. It didn't bother me when Jim Jarmusch made a similar (even more on-the-nose) reference to it in Broken Flowers, and it didn't bother me here. But is this section of the film really that much of a carbon copy of Nabokov (or Kubrick, which I haven't seen) as you say? For example,

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is Simon Rex's character as monstrous as Humbert Humbert? (Or, given his repugnant beliefs, monstrous in the same ways?). He's surprisingly shy, and we're not given evidence to believe that anything physical takes place between the two. Williams also seems much less interested in Rex's pathology/interiority than in Lillian's participation throughout their encounter. The scene in the hotel is about Lillian's awareness of the power granted by her youth and beauty, which is a crucial thread in the film.

Regarding the Poe question, I don't know if I have a sufficient answer, other than broad (you might say superficial) affinities Williams perhaps may have wanted to incidentally establish (i.e. situating himself with a tradition of American artists such as Poe: east coast based, certifiably weird). But supposing the references are just ornamental—there because the filmmakers like Poe—I don't think they need another reason to justify themselves.

the characterizations and local color you mention seem to me to be most often designed around punchlines, easy effects, and sudden reversals more than any real-world counterparts.

I don't think they're meant to have perfect real world analogues. The film is impressionistic, not realistic. (Although, "plausible" is a word I keep coming back to.) Again I don't see the same malice you do, so we'll have to agree to disagree.

I can’t square how a movie can have no interest in making political or cultural statements while also being proudly American, rooted in Griffith, and based on a fascination and play with American iconography.

I had intended "grand" to be the operative word in my original sentence. I do think the film (obviously) captures things about American life and the American character. It gets at those things through observation, not by setting out to prove certain theses, and it doesn't trumpet them. They can't be summed up in pithy statements. Forgive me if my half-formed thoughts on this point sound coy. Something that struck me very powerfully when I first saw the film was

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the last sequence when Lillian returns home. The look of the inside of her house is so specific, and the general dead-end, deflated feel (two teen pregnancies, a suicide), the way her friends looked and spoke to each other... All of this struck me as a piercingly accurate depiction of a certain (common) American place and the lives that inhabit it.

[therewillbeblus]

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Williams also seems much less interested in Rex's pathology/interiority than in Lillian's participation throughout their encounter. The scene in the hotel is about Lillian's awareness of the power granted by her youth and beauty, which is a crucial thread in the film.

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Absolutely, though watching it again last night, I was struck by two alternative readings, but which don't edge out the critical awareness you're talking to - they can co-exist. The first is related to that: This encounter directly contrasts with the first scene of the film, when Lillian is disinterested in the guy she just slept with who's preaching grandiose rhetoric about himself and sincerely asking if she wants to keep the used condom because it "might be worth something someday" if his influencer career takes off, or whatever his famous-goal thing is. We don't care because she doesn't care. But to encounter Rex, who is also spewing rhetoric about American identity as valuable, and yet is more self-conscious and is reacting so clearly out of a desperation to matter and be seen.. she gets that, and.. she doesn't really know how to (or hasn't had good modeling - look at the dad's 'welcome home' - to comfortably engage in) social intimacy, so she manipulates to get where she feels she needs to go.

The other thought is that, while I do think she appreciates the refreshing nature of his fearful, guilt-ridden restraint over the narcissism of her past partner, I wondered if perhaps in that moment in the hotel room where she teases Rex with lingerie all night, part of her was 'ready' for him to take the lead and engage dominantly, and his refusal to stimulate that part of her (now that she had tired of what the other part of her was getting from him) is what prompted her to get him out so she could look through the bags and bail. It seemed way more planned than impulsive after discovering what was in the bag - I get the sense that she may have taken off with whatever was inside, even if it was just something to pawn.

Something that struck me very powerfully when I first saw the film was

SpoilerShow

the last sequence when Lillian returns home. The look of the inside of her house is so specific, and the general dead-end, deflated feel (two teen pregnancies, a suicide), the way her friends looked and spoke to each other... All of this struck me as a piercingly accurate depiction of a certain (common) American place and the lives that inhabit it.

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Well said, the end also brought me out of a very particular 'online'/Twitter reading too, though the similarities of people engaging in complacent lives - parents inebriated, friends falling into generational habits of pregnancy and vapid activity, maybe we'll take a catamaran ride.. and just leave that there - just felt like it was blending all life and communication together, as both overwhelmingly oppressive and fatalistic, and just not enough to fill that need in us to experience and connect and be seen.

[Red Screamer]

I appreciate the response. Just to clarify, I don’t think the Rex character is analogous to Humbert Humbert and the relationship, violence, and manipulation are very different in Nabokov’s novel. My complaint was that the script is under-imagined, with one example being that references seemed to take the place of original characterization, imagery, and observational detail in this section.

I actually agree with you about the ending, which I found to be the most touching, tonally interesting part of the film and I wished I had seen more of that throughout!