“Our world is filled with codes, subliminal messages – from Silver Lake to the Hollywood Hills”

This quote is the centrepiece of Under the Silver Lake, David Robert Mitchell’s extraordinary pop culture odyssey ripped straight from the pages of some of the greatest works of speculative postmodern fiction. A dizzying neo-noir with an electrifying performance from Andrew Garfield, who gives the very definition of a true movie star turn, this film is something of a minor miracle of contemporary cinematic storytelling, a work that has not been appreciated upon its initial release, but will find a wider audience in coming years, having all the makings of a true cult classic. Mitchell took on the challenge of venturing into the depths of the human condition, infusing his film with healthy doses of The Big Lebowski, The Long Goodbye and numerous other works (which will be spoken about in due course), and crafted a steadfast manifesto on society that is as terrifying as it is outrageously hilarious. This is the epitome of a divisive film – there are few films without overtly controversial content that have divided audiences quite like this one – some absolutely love it, others are endlessly repulsed by it and its numerous messages. I fall heavily into the former category, with this being a film that I adored without any reluctance because this is what cinema is supposed to be – fascinating, visually-striking, beautifully-composed and intelligent in how it approaches its story. Mitchell may have provided an audacious introduction for himself as a great filmmaker with his horror masterpiece It Follows, but with Under the Silver Lake, he firmly establishes himself as one of independent cinema’s most essential new voices, someone who seemingly exceeds the boundaries of simple filmmaking, working firmly within the realm of groundbreaking artistry and delivering metafictional pieces that exceed everything we’ve seen before. Its been a while since a new film has managed to impress me as much as this one, and I sincerely cannot wait to revisit this postmodern masterpiece again, because its films like this that renew one’s childlike fascination with cinema.

The film is focused on a young man (Andrew Garfield), who goes unnamed throughout the film, but seems to be named Sam, according to the credits. He is an ordinary slacker existing (rather than necessarily living) in the Silver Lake region of Los Angeles. He doesn’t seem to have any discernible job (he consistently evades stating where he gets his money when asked about his work by others), nor any clear steady income, and thus he is on the precipice of being evicted from his apartment, where he spends most of his days spying on his neighbours. A new addition to the neighbourhood is the mysterious Sarah (Riley Keough), a beautiful but complex young woman who Sam instantly falls for. When she suddenly disappears, our protagonist takes it upon himself to investigate what happened to her, with his obsession with this alluring young woman taking full control of his mental state, not allowing him to let go until he is given the answers he is so desperately seeking. What he does not realize is that a simple innocuous exploration into the whereabouts of a seemingly-ordinary person plunges Sam deep into a hidden world, one built upon human debauchery, communicated through secret codes, which Sam begins to unravel as he goes deeper into the world of conspiracies and mysterious occurrences. There’s a whole underworld of malice lurking beneath Los Angeles (and the entire globe, as it is implied), and Sam begins to question reality the more he learns about the sinister activities of the rich and famous lurking just out of public view. The problem is, what will destroy Sam first – his own declining sanity, or the inhabitants of these conspiracies when they realize that someone is onto them?

Throughout the entirety of this film’s long but appropriate running time, I kept wondering if Mitchell had been inspired by Thomas Pynchon, a sentiment that only grew as the film progressed, to the point where it had to be true, or else there was some form of divine intervention in how similar this film was to the author’s work. There was absolutely no doubt that this is the greatest cinematic realization of Pynchon’s vision, even if it wasn’t intentional (I am a massive fan of Inherent Vice, which shared the theme of being a slacker noir, but this film did approach some of the more interesting ideas contained within that work and others in a way that was more cohesive to the story). Even if the story wasn’t directly influenced, there are some elements that are common between Under the Silver Lake and Pynchon’s earliest work like V and The Crying of Lot 49 (two books that essentially created postmodern literature) – the setting underneath the sizzling California sun, an ordinary but intelligent protagonist who is thrust deep into a world of conspiracy, a cast of colourful oddballs who help thrust the story forward, and a labyrinthine plot that only becomes more complex and impenetrable the deeper we venture, made even more confusing with the constant references to pop culture. More than anything else, much like Pynchon’s work, Under the Silver Lake uses the concept of paranoia as a way of providing scathing commentary on society and its tendency to hide information from the general public, creating Kafka-esque webs of deceit and secrecy. In the same way George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four incites fear of surveillance in the reader, so does Pynchon’s work, inspiring potent existential crises that would be utterly terrifying had they not been so outrageously hilarious and beautifully irreverent. Mitchell has made a Pynchon film by way of David Lynch, and I do sincerely hope this was intentional, as not only is Under the Silver Lake a terrific film on its own, it is a brilliant homage to previous works, and a pleasant reminder that art, like life, doesn’t make sense – but in the words of the great author himself, “why should things be easy to understand?”

In fact, things not making sense is the precise reason why Under the Silver Lake is so exceptional. Absolutely nothing is what it seems throughout this film, and it blurs the boundaries between genres, and challenges so many narrative conventions, there’s nowhere to go but forward for the viewer, because we sure do not want to go back. Its always a risk for a filmmaker to make something that is intentionally confusing – audiences don’t go to cinemas to be challenged, or at least not in the way this film presents. We enjoy a mentally-stimulating film, and from time to time don’t begrudge a film that forces us to think a bit more than we usually would. Very few, if any, go in search of films like Under the Silver Lake. This film doesn’t only challenge the viewer – it violently grabs us out of our seats, and throws us into an uncanny world, where we are paired with Sam, the most unreliable of guides who is just as confused about the happenings as we are, and forced to go with him on his rambling, self-imposed quest for answers. This film has the hypnotic convolution of a bad acid trip, in the best way possible – its uncomfortable, intentionally tedious, and filled with unfamiliar places and unfriendly faces. We are put into the middle of a nightmarish version of Los Angeles, filled with strange and shady characters, all harbouring a secret of some sort. Each secret is itself a piece of a larger conspiracy, and its up to Sam (who intentionally puts himself in this position – no one told him to torture himself both mentally and physically for this cause) to break the panoply of codes and piece together the innumerable fragments of clues he is presented with throughout, in the hopes they will lead to some answers. Of course, while there are some answers given throughout this film (there would have to be), there is a lack of resolution, with Mitchell creating a winding, serpentine maze of a film that leads the viewer, much like Sam, into a world where confusion reigns and logic doesn’t matter – and it proves to be nothing less than a truly enriching, riveting experience.

Andrew Garfield has flirted with stardom for a while now – by all means, he’s an established actor who has been in several terrific films, normally being wonderful in them. However, it wasn’t under Under the Silver Lake that he gave a performance that truly showed his range – he was excellent as the conflicted business partner in The Social Network and brilliant as the priest in the middle of a crisis of faith in feudal Japan in Martin Scorsese’s Silence – but those were films where external factors played a significant part in the story, whereas this film here is built solely on the strength of Garfield’s performance. I’ve always maintained that a great actor isn’t one that can play likeable characters, but also play despicable characters and still make them endearing. This is never better exemplified by Garfield than here, delivering a powerhouse performance as a character who is a representation of an entire generation of young men who idolize long-dead music icons and allow their obsessions (especially with the opposite sex) to guide the way, sometimes with their supposed chivalry and desire to satiate a certain carnal desire, in this case, the lust to know what happened to his seductive, mysterious neighbour, can lead them into trouble. Its always indicative of a great performance when a film has a large ensemble of characters (almost all of which don’t have names), but only one stands out above all others – and Garfield makes us forget about nearly everyone else in this film, as we accompany his self-serving, inquisitive young man on a strange journey into the depths of Los Angeles. As great as he has been in the past, this film represents a turning point for Garfield, who is no longer limited to charming and noble leading characters, but also more fascinating individuals, with his Sam being an intriguing accumulation of drugs, paranoia and curiosities, and Garfield holding his own against an intimidating concept at the core of this film, and delivering a standout performance that will go down as one of the greatest.

More than anything else, Under the Silver Lake is a film made to represent modern life in a way it is rarely shown – the conspiracies, urban legends and mysteries surrounding society are shown here, albeit in a way that isn’t directly indicative of reality, allowing the film to maintain some semblance of fantasy – it does take the form of a modern fairytale of sorts, with a heroic, chivalrous man going in search of a damsel in distress, and encountering a variety of mysterious, almost otherworldly figures, some of which aid him, others stand in his way, impeding him on his adventure. This film is reminiscent of another great film noir, Norman Foster’s Woman on the Run, which also uses the device of a complex protagonist investigating a mysterious disappearance using some vague clues to piece together their whereabouts. Deeply rooted within the culture of film noirs to the point where it is clearly inspired by previous films in the genre, Under the Silver Lake presents us with a compelling mystery, but not one that ever dares to make sense of the world. The faster we realize that there are no answers present in this film, the sooner we can relax in the knowledge that we are in the capable hands of a director who respects his audience enough to take us on a dizzying narrative journey without condescending us with excessive explanations, a cinematic journey that is just as mesmerizing as it is understandably polarizing. There are so many clues scattered throughout this film that seem deliberately left not for the protagonist, but for the viewer, more than one viewing seems necessary to make sense of the magnificent nonsense Mitchell presents us with.

In this regard, watching Under the Silver Lake is not one that allows for placid viewing, with the film being an active experience for the audience, as we are given numerous clues that help us piece together the intricacies of this film. This is a complex journey that utilizes nearly every sense in telling its story. Visually, the cinematography in this film is stunning. There is an assortment of intimate moments of small-scale introspection, and large sweeping shots that are indicative of ideas far bigger than we could ever conceive. It takes a very special kind of filmmaker to represent something as intimidating as a metropolis like Los Angeles, and make it even more daunting and menacing. The eye for detail Mitchell has is unprecedented, with his use of colour and scope being unlike most contemporary films of this nature. Moreso, the use of sound, specifically music, is imperative to the way this story is told. Not only is the score, composed by Disasterpiece (clearly inspired by the awe-inspiring aural work of John Carpenter and his iconic horror films) able to complement the ethereal absurdity of the film, the concept of music itself is the key to the central mystery, which is a genius way of imparting the idea of messages being hidden in plain view. Not since the epidemic of people believing there to be subliminal messages embedded within popular music has the idea of mass-control through pop culture been so overly explored. Even the concept of smell comes into play (one of the several running jokes in this film occurs when characters mention how Sam smells bad, which he blames on the numerous skunks in the area), with every little detail and motif working towards the brilliance of the film. The technical prowess behind Under the Silver Lake does more than just supplement the story, but rather helping define it and thrusting it forward in ways that ordinary storytelling just cannot, and it just makes this film all that more impressively profound.

With Under the Silver Lake, David Robert Mitchell has made a bewitching piece of visual literature, a complex, acidic neo-noir that is as stunning as it is fascinating. This is a metaphysical odyssey that shatters all expectations and challenges the very notion of coherent storytelling. A postmodern piece that goes against every possible metanarrative, it flourishes precisely because it is so vehemently defiant of appearing normal or making any sense. This film thrives on the fact that it knows it is strange and unusual, and it while it may bewilder the audience, it is also a beguiling, deeply engrossing experience that is almost unlike anything we have ever seen before. A film that owes a great deal to other similar works, such as the aforementioned novels of Thomas Pynchon and the films of David Lynch, this is a terrific pastiche of film noir with a good amount of surreal paranoia thrown in for good measure. Andrew Garfield is beyond excellent, and the film itself is a tremendously compelling piece – it is a reminder of the devilishly clever way art can subvert our expectations and involve us in their underlying themes in a way that isn’t only visceral to the point where we can feel every sensation, but almost terrifyingly real. This film certainly may have its imperfections – it is much longer than a film like this should typically be (although some may argue this contributes to the epic scope), and it may lack some of the depth it seems to believe it possesses, but it is certainly a mystifying piece of cinema, something that harbours a lot of meaning and incites thought in all of us. I doubt there are many people who watch this film and don’t feel compelled to look at the world around them a little more carefully, noting the strange little idiosyncrasies that govern modern society. Under the Silver Lake may be a work of great postmodern fiction, but its deeply rooted in reality – it is unlikely that everything is what it seems, and if anything, Mitchell dares us not only to peer beneath the surface, but to dive right in, because underneath the silver lake of society, there is a world of intrigue and mystery, and if this doesn’t simultaneously arouse and terrify you, then absolutely nothing will. Maybe it’s better we don’t try and make sense of life, but rather enjoy the beautiful cataclysm that is human existence without asking too many questions. Like Thomas Pynchon says, “If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don’t have to worry about answers”