Like 2012’s Cosmopolis, David Cronenberg’s Maps to the Stars is another Cannes competition entry by the veteran Canadian director that features Robert Pattinson having sex in a limousine. While that may seem like an unforgivably glib entry point for introducing Cronenberg’s scabrous evisceration of Hollywood mores, it’s nevertheless appropriate to cut to the salacious chase, especially since novelist Bruce Wagner’s script is anything but dainty. A satirical assault on Hollywood’s infatuation with success, youth, and New Age buncombe, Maps tackles sexual abuse, teenage drug addiction, show business backbiting, and incestuous longings with a scattershot sardonicism that prevents superficially pulpy material from degenerating into cartoonish melodrama.
Maps to the Stars’ pungent dialogue and lack of sentimental posturing makes it intermittently entertaining, even though the insiderish swipes at Hollywood (everyone from Garry Marshall and Anne Hathaway to Chuck Lorre and Bernardo Bertolucci are disdainfully name checked) lack the combination of pathos and invective achieved in Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard (1950), still the most moving, as well as the funniest poison pen letter to Hollywood’s culture of narcissism.
Rob's role is small so not sure why he's the focus here. However, even though it's early, Julianne and Mia are slaying the critics so far.