Spielberg doesn’t deconstruct. He makes movies that beg the question of why so many filmmakers think they have to. Every flourish you’ve come to expect out of the greatest blockbuster director to ever live is here and they’re all so gorgeous they could bring you to tears. And yet all of them, along with Spielberg’s usual platitudes, ring purposefully hollow by the end. The film has directly told you these flashy tricks and trite moralizings are really only there because this is a movie and that’s the way things work in movies.

When the credits roll you aren’t pumping your fist cheering Sam Fableman on as he sets out to make Dual. You’re left with the bitter truth that it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. In the end, you’ll always be that little kid trying to figure out why mommy and daddy don’t love each other anymore.