Early Paul: Soft, apologetic, balding. He walks like his spine is borrowed. Cage plays him with — every breath a negotiation with disappointment.

The ending is not a redemption. It’s a .

Paul accepts his role as the dream boogeyman. He signs a deal to appear in a video game as “The Man Who Haunts Your Sleep.” He’s not cured. He’s .

The final shot — Paul walking through an airport, unnoticed again, heading to a convention where he’ll sign autographs for people who fear him — is devastating. He smiles. Not because he’s happy. Because he’s .

Post-fame Paul: Still soft, but now confused by his own power. The famous speech — where he insists he’s passive while his dream-self commits violence — is Cage at his most tragic. He’s not a monster. He’s a man who forgot he had a shadow .

The meltdown scene (you’ll know it) is not “Cage Rage.” It’s a in a rental car. He doesn’t scream. He whimpers. That’s harder to watch.

Cage’s hair is a character. Fluffy and unthreatening at the start. Greasy and unkempt as he spirals. By the final act, it’s plastered to his forehead — the helmet of a man who has lost every battle. 4. THE HORROR OF BEING OBSERVED This is not a film about dreams. It’s a film about surveillance as intimacy .

The lights on. Your phone off. And maybe a Xanax. End HDTS Transmission.