4th viewing, no change in response. The obsessiveness on display can be a metaphor for any kind of fixation, though to my over-exposed eyes it can be a cautionary tale about cinemania ("Was he into movies? Was he a movie buff?" "I can tell you that he was not into people.") Only new thing I noticed was a textbook, film-school-approved graphic match between a diagonal line of text and the Golden Gate Bridge: words inscribe the landscape — with terror! Just a perfectly made film, richer than it knows, delivering information and melancholy with equal measure.
1) The best thing that ever happened to this movie/Richard Kelly's career was his producers insisting Kelly cut it down to 120 minutes. The director's cut is basically an extremely dull/dry tract on time travel, one whose pedanticism is dependent on chunks of Stephen Hawking and an understanding of quantum physics I neither care about nor can master. I knew nothing about wormholes etc. when I first saw this and had no idea what the fuck was going on. Now…