** Two stars
The “authorism” of today’s cinema has two problems. The first, that almost any image can be made and anything can be counted without the restrictions imposed by the physics of the real world.
The second, that many directors believe that authors are “born”. The case of Ari Aster is symptomatic: after two horror films that had some originality (Hereditary and, above all, Midosommar, both weighed down by excessive length), here he opts for a kind of metaphysical tale about a poor guy who can’t get out from home and must see his mother. Or, at least, it is the starting point of a series of adventures that are each more absurd, which lead to an ending that we can call surreal.
OK, David Lynch is capable of making a masterpiece with that method (The Path of Dreams, for example), but here things are much more whimsical, more obvious, more – excuse the term – pedantic: a director saying “I do what I want because I can”, without this implying relevance for the viewer.
By the way, this Aster commercial demo is three hours long. Synthesis does not seem to be his virtue.
