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blooming-violets · 1 year

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[Under the Silver Lake, Sam x Fem!Character]

Summary: Sam relocates after the events of UtSL and stumbles into the life of a new, captivating woman with an enticing profession. He can’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

Warnings: 18+ smut, panty stealing, voyeurism and masturbation, porn making, use of the word “cunt” (I know some people don’t like that word so adding it to the warnings), mentions of a graphic suicide

A/N: Merry Christmas, @squiddtheekidd here’s some Sam smut for you. Kind of. He doesn’t actually fuck anyone in it. Except for himself. Sorry for the spoilers. ily I didn’t intend for this to be posted on Christmas but it happened that way and I can’t stop it. Santa has me on the naught list.

His new apartment was about half the size of his last one and lacked the artistic charm.

Four, stark white walls with light gray laminate, fake hardwood flooring and zero furniture. A vacant, rectangular void created to purge a person of all their quirks. Whoever thought gray floors and white minimalism should be the new trend deserved to be tarred and feathered. Most of the furniture at his old place came with the apartment. He had to sell the rest of his belongings when he left. Apparently when you don’t work or make any money, landlords don’t take it well when you can’t afford rent. In a last ditch effort to avoid homelessness, he sold nearly everything he owned and grabbed the first cheap place he could find.

That’s what Sam did best.

Like a parasite searching for a new host, he sought out someplace fresh to sink his teeth into and drain of life.

At least the skunk smell had finally worn off. That was a shining positive he couldn’t ignore.

One week spent at this apartment and he had only acquired an old, leather couch he found on the side of the road which he paid two homeless men five dollars to carry upstairs for him. One couch and a trash bag full of his dirty clothes was all that he possessed. As he stared at the crumpled bag sitting across from him, Sam took a deep breath and pushed himself off his ass. He might as well take advantage of the laundry room this building had.

The bag slung over his shoulder like a disheveled, depressed Santa Claus as he shuffled into the basement. The overhead light flickered a few times before finally illuminating the large room with a persistence, static humming sound. The smell of musty mildew hit his nose. There were four old washers against the far back wall and a row of dryers opposite them to match. A, once white, now yellowed ironing board was set up next to washers and a wooden bench, missing a few slats across the seat, was perched next to it all. It wasn’t much but neither was he.

Sam flipped his bag upside down to dump the pile of clothes into the wash. After putting in his cheap detergent, he attempted to turn on the machine, only to find none of the buttons working.

“Come on, you piece of shit,” he grumbled, slamming his fist against the side.

“That one doesn’t work.”

A scratchy, feminine voice filled the empty space behind him. Sam turned around, already putting a dazed smile onto his scruffy face, as he sought his sights on the woman. She was standing in the doorway with a purple laundry basket tucked under her arm. She looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place her.

“It’s supposed to have an out of order sign on it but the asshole kid from 3B thinks it’s hilarious to take it off.” She sighed, walking in further to claim a spot by the washer at the end of the line. “He also thinks it’s funny to stick gum under door knobs so watch out for that.”

Sam nodded, looking down at his feet, finding it hard to make eye contact with her, “Oh…okay. Thank you.” He started pulling handfuls of his clothes out of the broken washer to relocate them to the one next to hers. “I just moved in right next to 3B so I have a feeling I’ll be at the mercy of his attacks. I hate it when kids are assholes.”

“You moved into 3A? You must have gotten it for dirt cheap then.”

He blinked. The apartment was a lot cheaper than anything else on the market but he never thought to ask why.

Like she was reading his mind, she continued, “Yeah, the guy who lived there last, blew his head off with a sawed off shotgun. The thing is, though, was that he did it during the Fourth of July fireworks so no one heard the gunshot. Guess he was an old veteran or something. PTDS, probably. Anyway, his body laid there for the entire month. No one noticed he was dead until rent was due. By then his body was all gross because of the heat. Congealed and shit. He was starting to liquify. There were millions of flies everywhere. The smell was awful but, of course, no one does shit in this building to fix things. We thought it was a dead raccoon for a while until the smell got worse. They had to scrape him off the floor and his brains off the wall. No matter how hard they cleaned, they couldn’t get rid of the stains. I heard they threw some laminate tiles over the hardwood and painted over the walls to hide the red.”

Sam grimaced at the imagery she was providing him with. Now that he thought about it, the apartment did smell weird. Smells weren’t something he typically took much notice of though.

“But you get it for cheap so that’s a plus! Death for one person means financial help for another.” She flashed him a cheery smile, not at all bothered by the death talk.

“Why do you think I need financial help?” He asked.

She snorted and raised her brows like it was obvious, “You’re doing laundry out of a trash bag, moved into a blood covered apartment, and look like you haven’t slept in about two weeks.”

He chuckled to himself, “Okay, you’re right. I’m poor.”

“Who isn’t struggling out here? Welcome to LA. It’s a land of struggle and failure.” She bent over to put the last of her things into her washer and glanced up at him. A wave of perfectly sculpted hair fell over her right eye to block off half of her face from his view.

“Veronica Lake,” he whispered.

Her brows pulled together in confusion, “Excuse me?”

Sam cleared his throat and felt the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment, “Sorry, sorry. You just…you looked like Veronica Lake for a minute. You’re hair. My, uhm, my mother used to watch a lot of old movies. Veronica Lake was famous for her hair. It was straight at the top and wavy at the bottom and would cover one of her eyes. When you leaned over just then, your hair looked like that. Elegant and old fashioned and perfect…”

Her piercing eyes bore into him. He struggled to read her thoughts but that wasn’t unusual. He always struggled to read women. He couldn’t tell if she was insulted or charmed by his strange observation. Either way, he made a mental note to go home and jerk off to The Blue Dahlia later while thinking about her. She was beautiful. And so familiar. Not because her hair resembled the old Hollywood actress but for something else.

“Hey, are you planning on hanging around for a while?” She asked, ignoring his vacant stare as he struggled to remember her face.

He shrugged, “I guess so. I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Want to do me a huge favor? I have a work appointment in twenty minutes. If you could pull my clothes out and throw them in the dryer when you switch over yours, that would be amazing.”

He nodded again, unable to say no to a pretty face, and gave her a smile, “Yeah, no problem.”

“Cool, thanks!” She flipped her perfect hair over her shoulder and picked up her empty basket. “I’ll see you around, 3A.”

“Sam,” he managed to call after her. “My name is Sam.

The sound of the washer’s alert buzzing jerked him from his sleep. Sam wiped the drool from his chin and blinked around, trying to remember where he was. He must have dozed off on the wooden bench. He didn’t remember falling asleep but he pushed himself off the hard seat with a deep groan. The back of his neck was killing him from his head flopping to the side while he napped.

Her machine had finished before his.

Sam looked around the empty basement and wondered what kind of work appointment she had to attend. What did she do for a living? How old was she? Did she have a boyfriend? He wondered what apartment she lived in. She was pretty, whoever she was. He wanted to run his hands through her wavy, Veronica Lake hair. The image of her head snapping back as he wrapped a fistful of those soft waves into his fist and drove his cock into her wet pussy flashed through his brain like a strike of lightning. He gave a sleepy smile. He wanted to fuck her. At least he had a goal now. He didn’t like feeling aimless and floaty. He needed to have something to do to keep his mind busy. Hopefully she would be that thing.

He pulled open the washer and scooped out an armful of her wet clothes then walked over to the nearest dryer to toss them in. This would give him Good Boy Points in her eyes. She would be pleased he was helping her out and doing as she asked. Maybe he could get a blowjob as a reward. If he knew what apartment she lived in he would even be willing to hand deliver all her dried clothes when they were finished. Fuck, he’d even fold them for her if she asked. It wasn’t like he had any money to spend on her. In order to win her over to his side, he’d have to charm her instead.

Another washer buzzed to signal that his clothes were finished as well. He scooped them up and dropped them into the dryer directly next to hers. Then he stood back and watched the hypnotic swirling motion as her clothes tumbled in circles through the heat. Round and round and round. So much purple and black. His drier resembled more of a mismatched rainbow of colors. Her’s felt darker and more mysterious.

A devious thought popped into his head then.

Sam sought his sights to the door. He couldn’t hear anyone coming and he was clearly alone. He quickly pulled open her dryer. The clothes came to a stop, sticking to the walls. Sitting directly on the top of a damp, black blouse was a simple, lavender thong. It was practically calling out to him. His eyes darted to the door once more before snatching it from the pile and shoving it deep into his sweatshirt pocket.

This was fine. This was okay. She wouldn’t notice one piece of underwear missing. She’d probably just assume the washer ate it. He lost his clothes all the time.

Sam stepped back, despite weighing next to nothing, the thong felt heavy as a rock in his pocket. His fingers slipped over the fabric. It was damp and cold, the heat from the dryer already evaporating. He wished he had stolen it before it got washed. He could have smelled her scent clinging to it. That was alright, he could make do with what he was given. The familiar, uncomfortable ache in his crotch returned. He tried to adjust the front of his jeans to better accommodate his stiffening manhood. Just merely possessing a part of her was enough to get him hard. He had to walk it off.

Despite nearing the beginning of Autumn, California weather remained the same. It was comfortably warm and sunny outside. The afternoon sky was a deep blue as he aimlessly strolled around his new apartment building. He hadn’t done much exploring yet. Not that there was much to explore. His mystery woman’s thong stayed laced through his fingers, hidden in the safety of his pocket, as he walked. His thumb ran over the small piece of fabric that covered her most intimate parts. It would have rubbed over her cunt anytime she moved. He pretended that he was fingering her tight folds instead of an article of damp clothing. He wondered what she would look like with her legs spread just for him.

A guttural moan stopped him dead in his tracks. Sam had wandered around to the back side of the apartments. Nothing but desert hills stood behind them. His ears perked up in the hopes of hearing that familiar noise once more.

A low, feminine whine, followed by a whimper, and then the sound of a man’s shuddered sigh.

He would know those noises anywhere. Someone was fucking.

Sam took a few steps back away from the building wall and casually inched closer to the source of the noise. Someone’s window was open. When he finally located the culprit, his heart leapt into his throat. The blinds were left wide open, probably due to there being nothing in the back of the building, and the window was open halfway so the intoxicating noise floated out to fill his ears. It was his laundry room girl. His Veronica Lake haired beauty. She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, facing the window, between the legs of a toned, muscular man. They were both stark naked. He had her legs hooked on either side of his so he could keep them pried open. His fingers were buried deep inside of her soaking pussy. Even from the quick glance he got through the window he would tell how wet she was. The couple were sitting directly in front of a camera that was aimed and filming their every move.

Sam gulped, his erection springing to life with a force even he wasn’t used to. He stumbled back away from the window and ducked behind the nearest, half dead palm tree. If he wasn’t so skinny it would have been obvious where he was hiding but, luckily, he managed to fit nicely behind the trunk.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself.

They were filming a sex tape. Or a porn. Or livestream. Or something. This was her “work appointment”.

And then it hit him.

He knew exactly where he had seen her face before. She appeared in a porn he watched ages ago, the summer after he graduated highschool, when he still lived with his mom. Someone had been handing out vhs tapes at an underground party he once attended. He remembered thinking it was weird that someone was still using vhs. He took the mystery tape, of course. He never turned down free shit. He had to dig up an old player from a pile of junk in his mother’s garage to watch it.

The video started with a black and white title screen labeled “The Vampire’s Kiss”. It was done in the style of an old Hollywood movie. That would explain her hair style. She was embracing her niche role. She had worn a long, sheer nightgown and pretended to be asleep when a man with fangs crawled through her window. It was a silent film cued with title cards of vague, written dialogue to push the loose plot along. She was tied up by her nighttime stalker, her dress torn from her, and her body crudely displayed to the audience as the vampire sucked her blood. It looked real, too. Well, as real as an old style film could. She looked like she was really bleeding and that man was really drinking from her neck. Sam remembered jerking off to her black and white pussy almost every night that year. It wasn’t until his mother caught him one evening that she hit him over the head with a broom handle and forced him to throw out such filth. He moved out the next month but, sadly, lost the tape forever.

It was strange to see her in color now. This new film seemed to be much different than whatever pornographic art she made in the past. This looked less artistic and more straightforward. He wished he could remember her name. He peeked out from behind his tree to watch her work. The man was still fingering her. To be honest, he didn’t seem very good at it, but she was acting like it was the best thing she ever felt in her life by the way she was moaning. Sam could do better. He could make her really moan. None of this fake porn shit. He could make her scream if he wanted to.

Before he knew it, his jeans were unzipped and his cock was wrapped around her thong as he used it to pleasure himself. That should be him in there. He should be the one with her.

She shoved her partner’s hand away from between her legs and made him stand up. Sam watched as she better positioned him in front of her camera as she fell to her knees. The moment she opened her mouth to receive his massive dick, Sam slumped against the spiky tree bark as his knees went weak. He wanted to remember every single detail. This would go straight into his spank bank for the next few months. He had never been treated to such a live show before.

She looked remarkably like an expert at sucking a cock. Happy, even, like the feeling of her mouth being stuffed was everything she could have wanted. The man’s moans helped cover the tiny squeaks of pleasure coming out of his own mouth. He furiously beat his meat into her panties as he watched. She was such a little whore. Her long hair was tossed back and cascading down her smooth back. Her ass was sticking out from between her legs. It looked in desperate need of a face buried between her cheeks. Her entire body was responding with such vigor to the simple act of having a cock her mouth. It was like nothing he had witnessed. No woman had ever been that excited to give him a blow job before. Not even the ones he had paid to act enthusiastic. Her hands toyed with the base of the man’s cock and fondled his balls as she swallowed him whole. Sam nearly tumbled to the ground when he watched her hold the man’s cock against his stomach as she slowly licked up the veiny underside of his long shaft. Then she shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him. She was completely in charge of this show. She called all the shots.

Her leg swung over his head and she arched her back as she lowered her dripping cunt onto his face. Her ass was perfect. Porn worthy perfection. She clearly chose the right profession. The noises she made the second his tongue dove deep inside of her were the most erotic thing Sam had ever heard. She bent down to resume her hungry need for his cock. This woman took to sixty-nining like a duck to water. A natural.

Her hips ground against his face. His mouth was full of her glistening, juicy pussy. She only sucked on his cock for a moment before she let out a whimpered moan. Her back arched as she rolled her hips faster against his mouth.

“Oh, I’m close,” she gasped. “I’m…oh…I’m…cumming!”

It was like he was watching a Goddess of sexuality emerge and blossom before his very eyes. Her orgasm was true magic. Naked and spread open on top of the toned man’s face, her body spasmed. Her wet, syrupy pussy crushing his head into the pillows. She tried to hold in her squeal of pleasure at first but nothing she could do could ever stop it from bursting from her lungs. Her entire body moved with rhythmic energy. Her eyes squeezed close almost as if she was in pain but the euphoric expression that softened her features proved the opposite.

Sam thought that would be the thing to push him over the edge. His balls felt tight and ached for a release. He could have finished then and quickly scurried off like the rat that he was but he held strong. The moment her orgasm subsided, she dived straight back to the man’s cock like she was positively ravenous for it. He never stopped licking at her pussy despite her orgasm, clearly helping to fuel her sudden greedy obsession with stuffing her mouth. She took him so deep down her throat. He was a large man and she swallowed him straight to the base, even giving off perfect gagging sounds as she did. She was a master of her craft and Sam was in love.

She gasped for breath as she pulled up from the depths back to the surface. A thick string of saliva connected her lips to his meaty head. His entire shaft was coated in her glistening spit. Her hands took up the stroking motion the second her mouth left so he was never unattended. She knew how to take her man. If that was Sam, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. He would have shot his load down the back of her throat without a second thought but this man was more controlled than he could ever be. She took him back into her mouth after catching her breath, deep throating his entire cock. A flash of her eyes towards the window caught him off guard.

Sam froze.

She was looking straight at him. Not at the camera. At him.

He was caught. A deer in the headlights. He hadn’t even realized he was no longer hidden behind the safety of the tree. At some point, he had stepped out to get a better view. Now he was in full view of her window, his cock in hand and wrapped around a pair of her stolen underwear, as he was clearly furiously jerking off to her spectacle.

She paused for just a moment. Not enough to be noticed by her partner but to be noticed by Sam. With her mouth still stuffed, her lips curled into a smile. She held perfect eye contact with him as she bobbed her head back down on the man’s cock. Her hips grind harder against his face and another, smaller orgasm bursts through her body. She shivered, convulsing slightly, but not breaking eye contact. She knew he was watching and it only turned on her. It was Sam’s presence that caused her second orgasm.

He wasn’t just in love. He wanted to worship her like the Goddess she was. He would follow to the ends of the earth. He would lay down his life at her feet. He would be her slave for the rest of time if she’d allow it.

Her head plunged down again, the connection between them breaking. She was a wild cock sucker. The man under her could hardly keep up. His cheeks glowed from her gushing cunt coating his skin. She rode his face like she was nearing death and it was the only thing keeping her alive. She was aiming for orgasm number three. Sam could sense it. He only had her in his life for less than an hour and he was already learning her signs. Her animalistic sounds of pleasure filled his ears. He didn’t even care to hide it anymore. He was openly watching her now. In all his years of being a porn connoisseur, he had never witnessed anyone quite like her.

Her sneaky eyes were on him again. She was watching his hand, watching her underwear be used as a synthetic pussy, watching how he pleasured himself for her. It was as if she was urging him to cum with her. The three of them together. Her lips popped off her partner’s member as her body began the third spasm of the night. Her eyes stayed on Sam as she came. Her mouth hung open.

“Cum for me,” she whispered.

The man thought she was talking to him but Sam knew the truth as he read her lips. She was ordering him to cum. As her partner’s cock burst to life, spurting thick, gushing rockets up onto her chest, she broke her eye contact to quickly lean down to capture it in her willing mouth. His swollen cockhead snuggled between her lips as she drank his essence. At that moment, Sam pictured her mouth around him instead. He could practically feel her warm, wet tongue swirling around him.

And he came for her.

Breathy gasps and strained moans, he emptied himself into her stolen underwear, milking himself for every drop he had to give her. His semen was all for her. Her prize for being so good to him. He closed his eyes and imagined shooting it onto her face. He watched it drip slowly down her cheeks, her tongue darting out to lick up whatever morels she could reach, and he would lean down to crash his lips onto hers. He would hold her tightly in his arms and kiss her with the kind of passion he hadn’t shown to any woman since his ex left him for another man. He didn’t even know her name but he knew he would have her. She would be his.

Sam’s eyes blinked open. The bright, sunny afternoon felt a little more colorful than it had earlier. He held up her soiled underwear for her to see before slipping it back into his pocket. That belonged to him now. It was no longer hers.

He zipped his softening cock back into his jeans and turned to leave without giving her a second look. He could feel her eyes following him until he left the sight of her window. A smile danced on his face.

She would be the one to find him. He showed her his hand of cards and now it was her turn to play. She could choose to take him if she wanted. He was hers for the taking.

She knew exactly where he lived.

✨IF YOU ENJOYED AND WOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE, PLEASE GIVE THIS A LIKE AND A REBLOG! ✨ YOUR COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED. ✨

I have zero idea what kind of audience Sam will bring, if he’d bring in any at all, but this was fun regardless. I love that stinky freak.

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schantzscribbles · 2 years

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Im sorry I don't know if you take asks or whatever but how do you interpret what happens in under the silver lake just cause I'm completely and utterly on an under the silver lake bullshit rant and I need opinions and you seem interested in the film (I'm so sorry I'm rambling)

Howdy! No need to apologize, my asks are always open!

“Under the Silver Lake” has genuinely become one of my favorite movies and I have a few different ways of interpreting it because I think there are a multitude of metaphors and lessons within the film. I could talk for hours about it! I’m going to put a cut after the first blurb because this will be long and have spoilers. (Also, I haven’t had the chance to rewatch it in a bit, so I may be a bit rusty on some points

First and foremost, I read UTSL as a breakup film. Sam is a man who is clearly struggling to cope with the loss of a relationship. The majority of his actions are him falling into unhealthy and dangerous ways of coping as he escapes not only a loss of love, but also a general distaste for his life as it’s quickly going downhill. It’s obvious from the beginning that he’s stopped caring about himself and his wellbeing as he shirks off all responsibilities to lounge around all day spying on women. This is what eventually sparks his interest in Sarah, someone he becomes obsessed over despite never actually getting the chance to know her. In many ways, Sam uses Sarah, or at least his idea of her, to try to answer the question of, “Why did my last relationship fail?” And in general, I think a lot of Sam’s character arc and journey is just him wanting to know, “Why?” and this is a “why” that can be applied to both the minute issues in his life, but also the bigger picture conspiracies he falls into.

So, when Sarah goes missing in the midst of him trying to process his last breakup and him using her as an unhealthy coping mechanism, it only further spirals him into his search for an answer to “why.” I personally interpreted his journey through LA as, “if he can find Sarah, then he can finally understand what went wrong with himself,” because even with every conspiracy and weird happenstance he finds himself in, his motivation remains focused on Sarah.

Now onto the surrounding conspiracies and the bigger picture, I feel a lot of what Sam faces with issues like the death cult Sarah ends up a part of, the Homeless King (and the homeless in general), and his encounter with the Songwriter are all instances that are meant to render him powerless and truly show how small and lost he is. To put it shortly, Sam is pathetic.

In the Death Cult and the Songwriter, Sam uncovers his fears of elite societies and individuals perpetuating a toxic and predatory capitalist system that render the likes of art and individuality useless and unattainable (and just the oppression of capitalism in general). He uncovers these big secrets that harm everyone and everything he has loved, yet knows that he is merely a nameless individual unable to change everything. And on top of that, he really doesn’t care unless it directly affects him and his interests. When he finds the Death Cult marrying off brides to fraudulent and corrupt men in the Hollywood elite only for them to all be entombed forever underground, he only cares because this hurts Sarah which in turn hurts him. He doesn’t take any action to help any of the other women in this situation and he clearly won’t because of his own selfish motivations. This just further drives home how Sarah was more of an obsession and a coping mechanism rather than a true person to him.

Another fascinating piece of Sam’s puzzle is the Dog Killer. Now, it’s already been confirmed by Andrew that he did many different takes of certain scenes where he played different sides of Sam’s relationship to the Dog Killer. Sometimes he played it off as if Sam had no idea who or what the Dog Killer is, sometimes he played it off as if Sam knew but didn’t care to intervene, and other times he even played it off as if Sam were the Dog Killer himself. I personally think the Dog Killer represents of multitude of things, one of those being Sam himself.

First and foremost, the Dog Killer as a literal dog murderer still remains ambiguous to me on a surface level. Why is someone just killing dogs in LA? So, my own interpretation of the dog killer strictly focuses on the metaphorical aspects of it all.

“Under the Silver Lake” is a movie that relies on the male gaze and it is very aware of that. It’s not entirely told from Sam’s perspective, but we are able to very clearly understand how he, and many of the men around him, view women, and it’s not a very kind or tasteful perspective. As Sam is obviously someone very hurt and lost due to his own actions and his last break-up, he does not view women as individuals deserving of respect. He spies on them, creepily follows them, and uses them in various ways for sexual gratification, emotional/motivational gain, and free therapy. Sometimes Sam gets away with this treatment and sometimes he does have more amicable relationships with women, but even so it’s built on a flimsy foundation of exploitation. In cases where Sam is called out on his behavior, or is not allowed to indulge in his desires, women very easily turn on him. Several times throughout the film when we see women rebelling against Sam, this is accompanied by the women directly barking at him, insinuating that Sam views these women as dogs. And what’s a popular derogatory name for women that doubles as a name for female dogs? Bitch. It’s no big jump from the symbolism of an angry and threatening dog to a defensive and protective woman to be labeled a bitch from a man’s perspective.

Is this barking really happening? Most likely not, but it’s a direct indicator of Sam’s state of mind and disposition towards women post break-up. Taking all of that information, I personally believe Sam is the Dog Killer in a metaphorical sense of him being a killer of relationships, a killer of love. He does not respect his partners, he does not respect women, he is lazy and unmotivated. Everything about him displayed in the film points to him being the reason he lost his last relationship and the reason why he is unable to healthily move on and find a new one.

On a broader level, I also view the Hollywood elite running the Death Cult Sarah gets roped into as Dog Killers. This just falls back in line with most of the men in the film objectifying women and viewing them as animals to own and control. So when these men are able to round up three “wives” at a time only to bring them to their deaths, they are becoming Dog Killers themselves.

That’s most of the big analysis I have currently because I need to do a rewatch and take more notes, but there are some other smaller themes and details that build up the characters and the story. The Owl’s Kiss is an allegory for the depression and paranoia that Sam has fallen into and how it could result suicide. Topher Grace’s character often states the obvious of what is happening while also feeding in to Sam’s delusion, serving as an enabler and a motivator. There are some times where Sam actually questions that voice and what it’s telling him to do, but ultimately never truly challenges, rather sticking to the familiarity of his paranoia as a way of making sense of things, as a way of answering his “why?”

That’s really all I have for now! I hope to come back to this and add more because I know there is more to explore and say, but I hope this all makes sense for now!!

#under the silver lake #andrew garfield #david robert mitchell #long ass post #ramblings #im honestly scared i interpreted this all wrong but the movie is so open and ambiguous #im sure any take with critical thought and analysis behind it is valid

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