Under the Silver Lake: Why David Robert Mitchell’s Weird Noir Still Keeps Us Guessing

Under the Silver Lake: Why David Robert Mitchell’s Weird Noir Still Keeps Us Guessing

If you’ve ever spent an afternoon spiraling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole at 3:00 AM, you already know the vibe of Under the Silver Lake. It’s a movie that feels like a fever dream. Actually, it feels like a fever dream had a baby with a Reddit conspiracy thread. David Robert Mitchell followed up his massive horror hit It Follows with this sprawling, messy, and deeply polarizing Los Angeles odyssey, and honestly, the film world hasn't quite known what to do with it since its 2018 debut.

Andrew Garfield plays Sam. Sam is kind of a mess. He’s a jobless, aimless 33-year-old living in a dingy Silver Lake apartment, spying on his neighbors and worrying about his impending eviction. When a beautiful neighbor named Sarah (Riley Keough) vanishes overnight, Sam doesn't just look for her—he descends into a labyrinth of hidden codes, urban legends, and pop-culture paranoia. It’s basically The Long Goodbye for the generation that grew up on Nintendo and Kurt Cobain.

Most people hated it at first. Critics at Cannes were frustrated by the 139-minute runtime and the way it refuses to provide easy answers. But here’s the thing: that’s exactly why it’s become a cult masterpiece. It’s a movie designed to be paused, screenshotted, and obsessed over. It isn't just a story; it's a puzzle box.

The Secret Language of Silver Lake

Everything in this movie is a clue. Or maybe nothing is. That's the trap. Sam finds "codes" in everything from cereal boxes to Vanna White’s hand gestures on Wheel of Fortune.

You’ve got the Songwriter scene. It’s one of the most cynical moments in modern cinema. Sam meets an ancient, wealthy man who claims to have written every iconic rock song in history—from "Smells Like Teen Spirit" to "I Love Rock 'n Roll." The Songwriter tells him that the rebellion of youth culture was just a manufactured product designed to make money. It’s a gut punch. It suggests that our deepest emotions and memories are tied to corporate jingles.

  • The Owl's Kiss: An urban legend about a naked woman in an owl mask who kills people.
  • The Dog Killer: A shadowy figure murdering pets across LA.
  • The Homeless King: A guide who leads Sam through a literal underground society.

The film uses these tropes to explore how we try to find meaning in a world that feels increasingly hollow. We want there to be a grand conspiracy because the alternative—that everything is just random and meaningless—is way scarier.

Decoding the Map

Fans have spent years literal years analyzing the "codes" Mitchell hid in the frames. There are actual hobo signals scratched into walls. There are Morse code messages hidden in the soundtrack. At one point, Sam looks at a Map of the Stars that correlates with a map of the Silver Lake reservoir.

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One of the coolest (and most frustrating) things is that some of these codes actually lead to real-world coordinates or hidden websites. It's meta-textual. The movie is about a guy losing his mind over fake codes, while the director is giving the audience real codes to find. It’s a snake eating its own tail.

Andrew Garfield’s Performance is Actually Genius

People often overlook how good Garfield is here. He’s playing a guy who thinks he’s the hero of a noir film, but he’s actually just a creepy dude who needs a job. He’s stinky—literally, the movie makes a point of how bad he smells because he can’t pay his water bill.

Garfield brings this manic, wide-eyed energy to Sam. He’s charming but deeply unlikeable at the same time. He represents a specific type of male entitlement: the belief that because you’re "smart" and "observant," the world owes you a mystery to solve.

Is Under the Silver Lake a Masterpiece or a Mess?

It’s both. Let’s be real. The pacing is weird. Some subplots, like the Balloon Girl or the shooting of the Coyote, feel like they belong in a different movie entirely. But that's the point of Neo-Noir. Think about Inherent Vice or The Big Lebowski. The plot isn't the point. The vibe is the point.

The cinematography by Mike Gioulakis is lush and vibrant, contrasting the dark themes with the sun-drenched, neon-lit beauty of Los Angeles. The score by Disasterpeace is a soaring, Hitchcockian throwback that makes every mundane moment feel like a life-or-death situation.

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Critics like Mark Kermode have noted that the film captures a very specific "Californian malaise." It’s about the feeling that you’re living in the shadow of giants, in a city where every corner has been filmed a thousand times and every original thought has already been bought and sold.

The Ending Explained (Sorta)

If you're looking for a "whodunit" resolution, you're going to be disappointed. Sam eventually finds Sarah. She hasn't been kidnapped by a cult in the traditional sense; she’s entered a voluntary "ascension." She’s part of a group of wealthy people who are literally burying themselves in underground bunkers to "transcend" the coming apocalypse.

It’s a biting critique of the 1%. While the rest of the world is struggling to pay rent, the elite are turning their lives into an exclusive, subterranean myth. Sam realizes he can’t "save" her because she doesn't want to be saved. He’s just a spectator.

The final shot of Sam on his balcony, watching his neighbor, brings the whole thing full circle. He hasn't changed. He hasn't grown. He’s just found a new mystery to distract him from his own failing life.

Why You Should Care Today

In an era of "elevated horror" and "prestige TV," Under the Silver Lake stands out because it’s genuinely weird. It doesn't care about being "likable." It cares about being interesting.

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It explores the "manosphere" before it was a mainstream term. It looks at how men project their insecurities onto women (the "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" trope turned into a nightmare). It tackles the commodification of art. And it does it all while Andrew Garfield beats up kids and dances to R.E.M.

How to Watch It Now

If you want to get the most out of this movie, don't watch it once. Watch it once for the story, then watch it again with a notebook.

  1. Look for the "Hobo Code" symbols in the background of Sam's apartment.
  2. Pay attention to the lyrics of the songs Sam hears—they often comment directly on the plot.
  3. Notice the recurring imagery of water and fire; it represents the two ways LA usually ends.
  4. Check out the "Under the Silver Lake" subreddit. People have genuinely solved some of the ciphers that are hidden in the background noise of the film.

The film is currently available on most major VOD platforms and often pops up on Max or A24’s streaming services. It’s a 140-minute commitment, but for fans of David Lynch, Raymond Chandler, or just bizarre mysteries, it's essential viewing.

Stop looking for the "correct" answer. The movie is a mirror. What you see in the codes says more about you than it does about the film. Mitchell created a world where everything is connected, but none of it matters—a perfect metaphor for the digital age.

Go back and watch the scene with the "Songwriter" again. It’s the key to the whole film. Once you realize that the things you love might just be manipulation, you start to see the "Silver Lake" everywhere. It’s a cynical, beautiful, frustrating, and unforgettable piece of cinema.

Don't just watch it as a movie. Watch it as an artifact of a culture that has run out of new ideas and has started eating its own history. That’s the real mystery Sam was trying to solve.

To dig deeper into the actual puzzles Mitchell left behind, research the "Coyote code" and the "Zelda" references found in the movie's first act. Many of these require a basic understanding of Caesar ciphers and frequency analysis, proving the film is as much a game as it is a narrative.