Acting off the pretense that it's smarter than we all think, for approximately two and a half hours, Richard Kelly's "Southland Tales" is proof positive that "Donnie Darko" was a fluke and he is a one trick pony, and an insufferable one to boot. And alas, Kelly will always ride on the reputation that precedes this rancid pile of garbage and anything else on the way out of his mind. Here, Kelly taps the "Donnie Darko" well again. There are chapters, spirituality, a disjointed series of sub-plots, visual flourishes all with a touch of self-awareness that kicks us in the face every single second. And in the process, Kelly also manages to beat us over the head with political commentary that is warranted but so clumsily delivered he often seems to try too hard. There is a politician whose assistant performs his work for him, his spoiled drunken daughter, violent liberals basing their crusade around a philosophy they have no knowledge of, a country kept in fear from lingering terror threats fake or otherwise, celebrities looking to politics for fame and career rejuvenation, gun toting Southerners supporting inevitable clandestine rule, and a government agency overstepping the constitution for the sake of “protecting” the country, all pseudo-intellectual themes that work to build an audience who think Kelly is working on another level.

Why this bloated star studded mess never tries to build upon sub-plots and set pieces that it leaves hanging in exchange for more incoherency is beyond me, but I never understood where it was going. Kelly didn't either. Within the endless diatribes, and horrific comedy with some talented but grossly underused actors, Kelly sets up the pieces for a potentially brilliant look at the apocalypse and disappoints at every single turn. He even breaks the fourth wall to rips off "The Big Lebowski" with embarrassing results, providing a musical number that's almost scene for scene similar to the aforementioned, with none of the charm of whimsy. When the story has no hope of redeeming itself, Kelly falls back on the explanation that this all is just one huge drug trip by folks prone to hallucinogenic drugs, so we shouldn't take what we see seriously. But it's difficult not to assume he is taking an earnest effort at intellectual storytelling, even after he turns tail and acts under the illusion that he’s actually intending black comedy and then self-satirizing. Kelly has no idea where to go tonally, dramatically, atmospherically, and that makes “Southland Tales” a gaudy, muddled mess.

Ask anyone what “Southland Tales” means and you’ll get no real response beyond criticisms of the acting and the direction. Kelly’s film isn’t like “Donnie Darko” where it attempts to provide resolution, this follow up is pointless, meaningless, and sets up such a pretense of intellectualism it fools its audience into believing it’s on a plain they can’t understand. Kudos to Kelly for ambiguity, for shame on the horrific way he delivers it.