Joan Didion's novel of the same name from which this is adapted is a work of few words conveying a tone that is cold & bleak, which is not to say that the work isn't something of a savoury marvel of words & images that swirl around in the mind & beg to be reread. Yet, it's rather surprising that such a book was considered ripe material for a film adaptation.
Joan Didion wrote the screenplay with her late husband John Gregory Dunne, even though apparently she was disappointed with the end result of the film. I find this rather surprising, since I feel it captures the detached introspection & the alienation of the surroundings of the desert, Los Angeles freeways, & smoggy cityscapes. However, while the film faithfully captures the themes & motifs, it forges its own style very much independent of the novel. Lacking the sparseness of its original source material, the viewer is allowed considerably more intimacy with its characters & environment, it is no less fragmented & enigmatic. It seems heavily influenced by the European arthouse films of its era (i.e. the late 60s/early 70s) which spilled over into much of the New Hollywood stuff, but not nearly to the extent that it's felt in this particular work. With that said though, its sensibility complements the material & never comes off as lofty or chic.
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