The world is ours
The pain, so unexpected and undeserved had for some reason cleared away the cobwebs. I realized I didn't hate the cabinet door, I hated my life... My house, my family, my backyard, my power mower. Nothing would ever change; nothing new could ever be expected. It had to end, and it did. Now in the dark world where I dwell, ugly things, and surprising things, and sometimes little wondrous things, spill out in me constantly, and I can count on nothing.
This isn't a documentary; it is a eulogy delivered by a ghost.
It contains no new interviews because it is pieced together entirely from self hypnosis tapes that Brando had been making for decades.
This movie is truly one of a kind and feels more like a Terrence Malick film than a celebrity biopic.
And to make the whole affair even more surreal, it is presided over and narrated by his disembodied CGI head.