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There's the pervasive feeling that this is a prefab cult film that doesn't need to try too hard, instead offering cosmetic variations from a very limited playbook of gestures meant to provoke Pavlovian cries of "Awesome!"
Those with an adolescent nostalgia for video-nasty era degradation/retribution may be mildly titillated, but Lynch has neither the wit nor desire to raise this above the level of faux-retro fanboy fantasy.
Lynch shows some visual flair with a few clever, Tarantino-like touches but the film overall is a deadening and claustrophobic experience, in which the human interest diminishes as rapidly as the body count rises.
The film's brutality - which includes not only the murder of a dog but also a fetishization of torture that borders on porn - is so excessive, even if tongue-in-cheek, that it leaves a bad taste in the mouth.