nadine smith’s review published on Letterboxd:
"pimps don't commit suicide."
sometimes a work of art operates at such an alien level of intelligence that it's impossible to understand. southland tales is such a work. richard kelly's vision is sprawling and singular, unlike anything else i've ever seen. it's a messy film, but the endless stream of images and screens we're subject to in our current incarnation of reality is messy as well, and like the internet, southland tales reflects an even more hyper-accelerated version of that reality. sensory overload is putting it lightly; this film drowns out any conventional sense of narrative with an unfiltered and unprocessed flow of visual information. this world ends not with a whimper, but with an internet porn gang-bang. only a few possible points of comparison spring to mind (phillip k. dick, thomas pynchon, neal stephenson's snow crash, the films of neveldine/taylor). i don't understand half of what southland tales tries to say, but that doesn't mean it fails to say it. it just means i need a lot more time (and multiple viewings) to process it.