Scattershot, but hardly unfocused. Very specific about a lot of its social milleu and central character. Very attentive to some current notions of paranoia and ressent (it often plays like stoner Burning). An angry screed, but very very funny. Sends off Obama days as much as Southland Tales does GWB ones (with Pynchon replacing Grant Morrison as muse).  A tourist view of Los Angeles (Thom Andersen would hate this movie so much). There’s a sense of fake belonging and bemused curiosity that interests me a lot. It is a uneven film, but most of the individual parts are intriguing and again very funny which covers for a lot of weaknesses. The film near ethnological comic detachment towards its world and its spiteful  perpetually horny stalker protagonist (it helps that Garfield body language is a wonder throughout)  is both its main asset and what is likely to reduce its appeal, but like a lot of comic secret histories it should at least age as valid time capsule.