We will all agree, after watching David Cronenberg’s Maps to the Stars, that Julianne Moore is the best. Yes, we already hold this truth to be self-evident (and her brand-new best actress Oscar for Still Alice only bolsters this known fact), but it’s always delightful to see her in action. And the action is plentiful in Cronenberg’s takedown of Hollywood, starring Moore as waning diva Havana Segrand—a self-involved product of Tinselturd who’s just as likely to find her Zen poolside as she is to throw her phone into the deep end in a rage-induced hissy fit. Cronenberg, being Cronenberg, doesn’t flinch from poking at the visceral, and Moore rises to the task in fine form. This is a film where Moore strips down repeatedly, seduces Robert Pattinson in a limo, gets seemingly molested in a creepy therapy session, and noisily poops on a toilet while bossing around her personal assistant. She chews the scenery, and it suits her to no end. Somehow she remains improbably classy throughout. While Moore’s performance is clear as a bell, Maps to the Stars’ plot is decidedly less so—it’s a convoluted knot that unravels, bit by bit, to reveal the relationships of an expansive cast of characters in Los Angeles. by Courtney Ferguson