
2022 · Daniel Scheinert
A reading · through the lens of theory
The Daniels build their multiverse not as world-building but as a neuro-image — a film that moves through a mind rather than a world. Evelyn's universe-jumping is structured less as travel than as cognition, each branch a synapse firing under overload: the speed at which alternate selves flash and recede mimics not physics but the anxious brain drowning in proliferating possibility, the digital medium itself made to perform psychological saturation. This overwhelm finds its visual counterpart in any-space-whatever: cinematographer Larkin Seiple deliberately drains the laundromat and the IRS office of interest — cramped, fluorescent-lit, emptied of glamour — making them disconnected non-places from which eruptions of kinetic sensation derive their charge precisely by contrast, the mundane rendered so visually poor that escape into other universes feels like oxygen. The film's editing grammar is post-continuity at its most purposeful: universe-switches do not obey classical continuity logic but cut sensation to sensation — googly eyes to trophy combat to hot-dog fingers — each transition a blow to be felt before it can be parsed, the cut as pure affect rather than argument. Against this maximalist machinery, the film's most tender formal gesture appears when Evelyn enters the movie-star universe and Seiple reproduces Wong Kar-wai's specific palette — saturated emerald, warm amber — alongside his handheld slow-motion shallow-focus intimacy, the debt made so legible it becomes a declaration: grief for unlived beauty requires a borrowed visual language to name itself.