To be fair, I definitely liked this, as it is incredibly watchable and baffling from the first scene to the last, but I'm still trying to figure out exactly why. It really has no reason to exist, but each and every decision, whether by narrative or character or visual, feels so particular and pored over. It's equal to someone playing darts in a dive-bar, and they miss the board *every fucking time*, and not only does it *not* hit the board, but each dart flies in a different direction so gracefully and forcefully that it must've been on purpose, right? Well, it wasn't. No way. Nohow. But it's that dedication and unaware innocence towards the exorbitant stupidity of Serenity that creates a new good-bad classic, one which features (among many wonderful, wonderful things) a man named The Rules and Diane Lane as a sexy, senile cat lady.
"Steer clear Big Tuna, head for open waters."