The most insufferable film, maybe, ever? Andrew Garfield goes big, but that doesn’t mean he’s particularly good. Black people aren’t properly lit. Lin-Manuel Miranda lacks the visual language of a filmmaker (very odd and repetitive compositions. Even weirder editing choices). In general: I had very little patience for Larson. This film creaks under the obnoxious, and misplaced importance of the all-consumed creative, particularly, the white creative, the only kind of creative who’s allowed to carry themselves like Larson does. That’s not wholly a mark against the playwright, Larson’s life was his life. To that end, in the second half, there are 10 minutes where the suffocating frenetic energy of the movie calms to reveal something quite beautiful. But it’s fleeting. And we return to an all too smothering coil. If someone told you a blind accounting of Larson’s ethos, without you knowing it was Larson, few would so lovingly praise his creative spirit. Or the fact that it took a tragedy to befall his best friend before he didn’t treat him like trash. Despite a stirring Robin de Jesús and Vanessa Hudgens’ singing voice, I found very little uplifting here. Instead TICK TICK BOOM is noxious, nauseating and not particularly well made.