This amorphous material needed to be molded by someone with a precise point-of-view — like a George Romero or an Alain Resnais. Instead, what we get is a creatively bankrupt series of stilted tableaux, frantic posing, obvious symbolism, breathy hysteria punctuated by risible dialogue, the thematic finesse of a sledgehammer, a score that does all the heavy lifting, washed-out cinematography and a shallow, monotonous lead performance (by an actress I quite like).

Safe to say that, at this point, the BioPic is the most impoverished of film genres, even more so than, let's say, the SuperHero movie. Like the latter, it requires our understanding of, and identification with, preexisting data. It leans into that shared knowledge, and its attached nostalgia and sentiment, without having to stake some position of its own. It is the last hiding place for hacks, trolling for a little prestige, while just grabbing for cash.

Strongly doubt I could have liked this any less.