In 'Last Night In Soho,' Edgar Wright Goes Wrong

Edgar Wright set out to make a trippy fever-dream of a movie. Last Night in Soho, the film he has made instead, is merely febrile: insistent, overworked, maddeningly repetitive and — like the most intense fevers — by turns sweaty and chilly, and keenly unpleasant to experience.

His technical skills remain on full display, however, as he and his team painstakingly recreate the riot of colors, sounds and textures of '60s London, dutifully reproduce the look and feel of filmmaking, and confidently pull off the illusion essential to the film's self-consciously contrived premise.