Writer-director Ari Aster tends to end his narratives in careening mayhem that finally exhausts itself in an absurdist state of entrapment. Midsommar, his best film, makes use of the conventions of the folk horror subgenre in order to achieve this end effectively. Hereditary, a big success that made Aster famous, was also protected by horror genre conventions, though after a promising start, I found it so silly as to be unendurable.

Eddington is like Hereditary (2018) and Beau Is Afraid (2023) in that it reflects his eagerness to make a full dive into the ludicrous, wrenching around the characters and plot events in ways that defy all narrative probability, apparently for the entertainment of that one guy in the sixth row of the theater whose hacking laugh indicates he finds it all incredibly funny.

It would be wonderful to get snapshots of the rest of the audience members during the protracted last sequences of these Aster films, as their faces begin to register faint puzzlement and then steadily squinch up in scornful disbelief until they reach a final state of complete disdain.