Under the Silver Lake

Culture and conspiracy rooted in Americana memory—art as a fabrication, an artifice with meaning forged by the elite, for the elite. But just because someone proclaims your love is empty, just because they dictate nostalgia, that doesn't make meaning, meaningless. When a song's notes vibrate the air, they charge memories and moments with the specific DNA of an individual soul; we're more than they believe we are.

But, we also need to navigate through the trashy instincts manipulated media breeds; sex and complacency are weapons that need to be re-forged into passion and drive. Mitchell's filmmaking is a fluid puzzle, shifting along rays of Hollywood-sunlight and the secrets imprinted into cultural history—the camera is justified, voyeuristic-paranoia; this just feels like it gets something.

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