Frustratingly self-indulgent, obnoxiously morose and immaturely nihilistic while having almost nothing interesting to say... or do... or show... Kaufman cements his position in cinema as the sad nerd who was one overdue Pauline Kael library book from shooting up his high school.

My experience with this film can actually be distilled down to a short exchange between Jesse Plemons and Jessie Buckley that went uncomfortably similar to how I imagine it is to have a conversation with Charlie Kaufman;

Plemons (Kaufman): “It’s a collection of essays by David Foster Wallace. Have you read it?”

Buckley (literally anyone): *sigh* “No”

Plemons’ character goes on to describe, unprompted and in detail, one the aforementioned essays while Buckley (all of us) looks longingly out into the distance, thinking of ending things.

Half a star each for David Thewlis, the dog, and the dance number at the end.