Johnny 🦞’s review published on Letterboxd:
Our dreams defy and reflect our realities. With eyes closed - we fly, we win, we love. The possibilities defying probability. The details reflecting desire.
Hollywood has long fed upon and grown into the empire of such speculative machinations, taxing dreams for the sake of storytelling. Recorded fantasies exorcised and projected onto the silver screen as entertainment.
Perhaps then, all our dreams are already set to tape and film.
Perhaps, all our possibilities are already captured.
Perhaps, the human experience, everything we see and hear around us, life itself, is merely a recording. The predetermined trajectory of existence. A film that we've seen before. With plotlines borrowed and character names recycled. What then becomes of identity? In a world where everything is scripted, it's hard to find meaning. When everyone just seems to play a part, it's impossible to find purpose.
Surely, you've felt it. That lightning strike of coincidence, deja-vu, premonition, serendipity. When you swore you knew what came next, who said what, what that key opened. You could have sworn you'd been there, done that.
Maybe it's just a dream.
Maybe it's just a movie.
If it was, who would you want to play?
The lead? Or the supporting role?