While the opening credits run, Patrick Fugit (Almost Famous) slits his wrists. Soon he finds himself in a limbo-esque place, full of other suicides who all go about relatively normal lives – working dead-end (no pun intended) jobs and wandering around aimlessly. It sort of reminded me of C.S. Lewis’s hell in The Great Divorce; [...]
The kid who plays Augusten Burroughs is actually pretty good, and there are enough wacky things going on that it should have been interesting. But it isn’t.
It’s not a film that sugarcoats anything, and I appreciate its honesty on that front, but there’s not a whole lot to actively like about it. Except Gyllenhaal, who is utterly fearless.
Scientists working on a device to enter into people’s dreams (for the purpose of psychological healing) have to go on the offensive with the device is stolen by someone who wants to control people’s dreams (for the purpose of, like, world domination).
if you want a look at the underside of Golden Age Hollywood, stick with L.A. Confidential. Hollywoodland is mostly just a failed attempt to do what that film did.
