The movie is like Manhattan with mobile phones, and in fact the idea of constructing one's own reality fits right in with the Woody Allenesque tone.

While it hits some of the usual sci-fi tropes, Creative Control's center of gravity isn't tech itself, but the relationships of those who use it.

Even after establishing David as a panicky wreck addicted to his morning Xanax chewables and evening booze, the movie doesn't dramatize his ensuing breakdown so that it makes sense or generates much sympathy.

Not one to disappoint on his film's namesake, Dickinson exerts towering creative control over a project that is both entirely creative and completely controlling of our concentration. Bravo.