Southland Tales ★★★★★

A gushing blood-red river of fear, pain, tenderness, and psyche-shattering foresight. There will never be another film like this ever again, and if there is, Richard Kelly will tragically not be the director allowed to make it. Part of the experience of watching this film is the haunting inevitability of it all, and the assuredness with which the film presents this is truly revelatory - no winking, just a stiff upper lip. The world will end in my lifetime and it will take every movie I've ever seen with it, congealed into a formless plasma of lost afternoons on the couch and excited whispers in a theater with friends, and when it does, it might just end in fireworks. Southland Tales is not just an elegy for the human race; it's an elegy for the usefulness of art in the face of catastrophe. You can't make a film about modern America without leaning into garishness, and you can't make a film about the future without acknowledging that the future is already here. It's the only film that makes any sense anymore.

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