Agatha returns to Los Angeles from the Florida clinic where she’s been incarcerated following an incident of arson. She takes a job as Personal Assistant to Julianne Moore’s Havana, a self-absorbed narcissistic Hollywood nutcase, whose apparently-abusive mother died in a suspicious fire. Agatha’s brother is himself a child star with issues, her estranged dad is a pat and smarmy Hollywood tv counsellor, her Mom is her brother’s manager as well as her dad’s sister, they’re all grasping and mean and awful and depressing….. Ah, family dysfunction. In the hands of David Cronenburg, it’s all particularly grim and yucky. A perfect patina of Hollywood glamour, slipping along on that mirrored surface and cutting yourself on the edges. It made me feel a bit too icky to actually enjoy it. Julianne Moore may be Oscar nominated though.