The Skywalker saga meets its finish, but not with a bang.
John Crowley's adaptation of Donna Tartt's novel is a baffling mess.
This portrait of the black metal scene tauts itself as being above posers, but doesn't quite show itself to be of much worth either.
Sam Levinson tries so hard to appear progressive, or not. And fails both ways.
Jennifer Garner's in fine form, like she never missed a beat from her Alias days. Shame about the rest of it.
This film has no clue about its own audience, nor how to handle its silly premise.
Communicates so little beyond its influences, which only serve as a reminder as to what you could be watching instead. (✯½)