Chaim Kindergelt’s review published on Letterboxd:
An accidental shit stain, unyielding it’s power as you strut around town.
In essence, and transparently, a revisionism on nostalgic revisionism, replanting mythos as the fatalistic binary it was always meant to make money upon.
If this wasn’t so haphazardly made, I’d call it cynical filmmaking and a morally repugnant product that would be irresponsible to fathom under any positive light. It’s first act plays out like a generic music video, cut together with no continuity and no sense of experimentation; an immediate expository recontextualization, reconfiguring emotional and character goals, and therefore base themes. This should be studied as the prime example of reactionary robotic commodification, an ode to corporate infrastructure in its need to keep control in the face of even the most subliminal and non-manifest threat.
This is nostalgia as product as erroneous reclamation of ignorance. And, goddamnit, the filmmaking can’t even find a way to make it less obvious. An embarrassing failure.