Southland Tales is a dystopian black comedy thriller film written and directed by Richard Kelly. The film is set in the then-near future of 2008, and is a portrait of Los Angeles, as well as a satiric commentary on the military–industrial complex and the infotainment industry. The title refers to the Southland, a name used by locals to refer to Southern California and the Greater Los Angeles area.
Review By Ben Dover: Richard Kelly’s Magnum Opus of Unintelligible Madness
clears throat dramatically and adjusts monocle
When a filmmaker dares to craft a sprawling, post-apocalyptic neo-noir satire that tackles everything from parallel dimensions to the Apocalypse, the results are bound to be…polarizing, to say the least. And Richard Kelly’s 2006 cinematic behemoth Southland Tales is about as polarizing as they come – a dizzying, hyperactive assault on the senses that doubles as a mordant commentary on modern America. Or at least that’s what I think it’s trying to do. Frankly, the whole thing is so utterly bonkers, it’s a wonder it even got made in the first place.
Where does one even begin with this cinematic train wreck? The plot? Don’t make me laugh. Kelly seems to have crammed every conceivable sci-fi/conspiracy/musical/action/romantic subplot imaginable into a single film, resulting in a dizzying, often incoherent narrative that makes the most convoluted Christopher Nolan mindbender look like child’s play. Parallel universes, neo-Marxist political uprisings, pop star-turned-action hero protagonists – it’s all here, whirling together in a blender of pure, unfiltered madness.
And the cast…oh, the cast. Kelly has the gall to enlist the likes of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and Justin Timberlake to navigate this labyrinthine nightmare, and the results are about as graceful as a newborn giraffe taking its first steps. It’s as if the director instructed his actors to channel their inner ham at all times, resulting in a symphony of overacting that would make even the most ardent thespian wince.
But perhaps the most baffling aspect of Southland Tales is its visual aesthetic – a neon-drenched, hyper-stylized fever dream that marries the garish excess of Blade Runner with the gaudy kitsch of a low-budget music video. Kelly seems to have raided the costume department of a failed Broadway production of Barbarella, splashing the screen with a dizzying array of shiny metallic jumpsuits, goofy hairstyles, and eye-searingly bright colors. It’s as if Salvador Dalí and Michael Bay co-directed an acid trip.
In the end, Southland Tales stands as a towering monument to unbridled ambition run amok – a cinematic Frankenstein’s monster stitched together from the disparate limbs of every genre imaginable. It’s a film that dares the audience to not only keep up with its manic, labyrinthine plotting but to also somehow find coherent meaning amidst the visual cacophony. And for those brave (or foolish) enough to accept the challenge, the results are equal parts exhilarating and utterly maddening.
Critics Consensus
Southland Tales, while offering an intriguing vision of the future, remains frustratingly incoherent and unpolished… 41% on RT. Read critic reviews
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