Then things got weird.
Following a bold, gut-wrenching early twist (which I won’t spoil), siblings end up camped out on the frozen tundra, spending quality alone time with their dad’s new, young girlfriend.
She’s a survivor of a suicide cult led by her father, and seems to be hanging by a thread most days.
When dad goes back to town, the uneasy trio are left to stew in their own juices, each tick of the clock bringing everyone a bit closer to full-blown mania.
Bad things happen to good people, but they also sometimes happen to bad people as well.
You can smell the paranoia from here.
Or maybe it’s just BO.
Either way, Andrew Garfield’s grungy accidental private eye carves a lonely path through ooky-kooky L.A., hunting for a missing woman who may not be really missing, his brain a mess of wild theories.
Meanwhile someone is killing dogs, the Homeless King rules from the shadows, and “Jesus and the Brides of Dracula” perform every night at a house party near you.
Little of it makes any sense – which is kinda, sorta the point – but it makes for a great ride on a mental rollercoaster headed for Crazy Town.