The weird mystery element remains engaging throughout, and the vivid mid-century modern design dazzles the eye. The music is an enticing blend of jazzy standards that comment on the action and effectively eerie female a cappella. Harry Styles is fine, and Chris Pine makes an insidiously creepy cult leader. You can see touches of all sorts of things here, not just Stepford Wives but Twilight Zone, Carrie, zombie apocalypse movies and more. But the blend remains tasty.
And if you’d care read it as an elaborate MAGA metaphor, you're perfectly free to.
Paul and I watched "Don't Worry Darling" on Netflix last night. I had forgotten how unsatisfying the ending is.
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