I'm only sorry here to disappoint the reader on whose recommendation I sought what I can only describe as The Room of dark, self-referential movie fiction. That isn't so accurate, since this guy is consciously striving for effect, it's just that the effect is as ridiculous.
The camera and production design are at a basic TV-level of imagination, there is no broader adventure in the eye.
There are a few weird costumes and shots framed around images, but they are as artistic a gesture as passing around flyers for your friend's art gallery.
The main threads in the story revolve around watching, images, and sexual pull to memory, ostensibly the same dark and noirish stuff that Lynch deals in. Robbe-Grillet before him. All of which I like in films. But the thinness of obvious ideas compared to their overstating, the amused wordplay ("I'll pass on being Pasiphae, I don't like bulls or bullish men" "Slink your slickness into the kitchen and get us libations"), the sense of a mere eccentricity pretending aloofness while dressed in pink, it's all so art school-ish for my taste.
Overall, the effect it has on me is like getting a papercut from a book on poetry and thinking I was on dangerous and poetic adventure.