Lovecraftian mood-piece more than anything. The narrative leans too hard on "horror only via subject's experience" and eventually collapses (like the structurally awkward/flawed "the color out of space"). More "feels" than all Aliens put together.
god-level. no other series in the history of impressionist genre cinema has ever pushed corporate biotechnological horrors to such absurd levels, till a point where nothing - literally nothing - you see on the screen is the final truth. it isn't for no reason that the word "undead" gets thrown around with such emphasis, - there is more non-obvious meaning to it in anderson's armature - being "undead" is a state worse and more insulting than being "dead" in the…
Unhinged abstraction. A grey, fever dreamy Tokyo as a soul incinerator, witnessing the interplay of overflowing systems. Nobody needs nobody, friends are mere nonentities drifting into secluded neglect, bodies coveting a state of oblivion inside walls, disappearing into them. The specters of urban malaise are manifold, thoroughly complimented here by the grey inertness of Cyberspace and its hypnagogic wastelands. This is a standstill. A droning, deserted video game parlor imitates an agitated poltergeist.