David Lynch must be spinning in his grave to know that his name has been associated with this pretentious crapfest. The takeaway for anyone watching this steaming pile is "just because you can do aomething, doesn't mean you should do it."
Let's start by not casting two scrawny teen nerds as detectives. And let's not assume that anything weird is automatically fascinating, especially if the "surreal" dream imagery is lit like a bad TV movie.
Don't surround your badly cast, chew-up-the scenery actors with sets that look like they were made for a high school play, and don't rely on corny period music to supply "atmosphere."
Finally, don't opt for a period piece if you don't have a clue about the era. Otherwise you'll end up with anachronistically tattooed ladies, laughably inappropriate wokeness, and a nurse's hat that looks like it was made from half of a Starbucks coffee cup.
The Blue Rose gives new meaning to the word "embarrassment." But if you've never seen a film by Lynch, Fellini or Jodorowsky and your favorite literary genre is fan fiction, it might be right up your alley.
