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Such a disorienting experience, both abstract and intimate in its portrayal of post-War identity and aimlessness. The "Scientology" stuff is the least interesting, but it hardly hinders the film. Such gorgeous images, Anderson has painted such a striking portrait of a "bromance" littered in secrets, false truths, and charades, while at the same time being hilarious. Becomes increasingly obvious that there is no order in Freddie's world, almost no point, he's a ghost. The film is a comedy, a tragedy, a mind-fuck, and everything in between. An assured and sly PTA we have here, there's a ton of callbacks to his old films. Freddie reminds of Barry Egan from PDL. Seymour Hoffman brilliantly hams it up, charming and dangerous as ever.