“It starts here,” says Booker, “with a lackluster establishing shot of a significant location. Next, a walky-talky preamble from the auteur, pacing steadily towards the lens, punctuating every other sentence with a hand gesture, and ignoring all the prigs milling around him like he’s gliding through the [censored] Matrix, before coming to a halt and posing a question: ‘What comes next?’”