The Russo Brothers are nothing but directors of spectacle; they cannot meaningfully present war and its effect on soldiers because their only thought is to attempt surface-level entertainment. Resultantly, for such a heavily overstylized movie it is unbelievably bland, the shallowness with which it portrays PTSD and drug addiction furthered in no way by its self-indulgent overbearing stylizations. An hour and 40 minutes in, I realized I could describe the plot in its entirety in a single sentence, and the movie seems completely unaware of the simplicity of its story. Instead of being intimate and caring, it goes big and loud, in your face and literally up Tom Holland's ass. There are trippy, psychedelic films designed to make you feel like you're on drugs; this movie, with its aggressive stylistic choices and flimsy superficiality, will make you feel like you overdosed.