When it comes to their original films, Netflix has a bizarre batting record. Last year we were treated to "Mudbound," a genuinely solid film with heart and a message; a story worth telling.

Though the rumors that it would be the first movie from a streaming service to be nominated for Best Picture proved fruitless, the film has already made Oscar history. Rachel Morrison is the first woman nominated in the category of Best Cinematography, and Mary J. Blige is the only individual to have been nominated for Best Supporting Actress and Best Original Song in the same film. With eight total Oscar nominations this year, Netflix may convince you that they're putting their money to good use.

As much as I would love to write more about Mudbound because it is a movie worth discussing, we must examine the other original films that Netflix has served to us. They are brought to your table on the same platter as Mudbound but have a weird smell to them. You notice quickly that it's not what you ordered, but you're afraid to say anything to the waiter because it tastes alright, you suppose, and you heard other restaurant patrons excitedly discussing how good that specific meal was going to be.

Then, when you're several bites in, you realize that you don't like it after all, but you're afraid that it's too late to stop because you've already eaten so much of it and you're invested so you might as well just finish it and hope that it gets better, or at least sits well with you afterward. Following the trend of sci-fi Netflix originals with acceptable production quality like "Bright" and "The Cloverfield Paradox," I recently watched Duncan Jones' "Mute."

Though I promise that it is a better use of your time than either of the two previous films, it still may leave many viewers wondering as to the purpose of it all.

That is, however, part of the theme of the film. It has many aspects of a neo-noir that prove it is a smart movie. Duncan Jones is a quality director, bringing us "Moon" and "Source Code." Those, with the addition of "Warcraft," prove that he can offer impressive visuals. Though "Mute" is set in the same universe as the aforementioned "Moon," it is completely digestible as a standalone film.

After learning this, and that "Mute" was a passion project of Jones that he had longed to make for years, I look back on the film with slightly more fondness than I had while viewing it.

"Mute" is the story of Leo Beiler (Alexander Skarsgard), an Amish man whose vocal cords were damaged in a chilling boating accident when he was a boy. Due to his mother's values, he is denied surgery to save his voice. As a result, he is left permanently mute. After this introduction, we are abruptly thrust into Berlin in the near future, a crowded, smog-filled city with holographic billboards, flying cars, and drone-delivered fast food.

Leo works as a bartender at an adult club, where his girlfriend Naadirah (Seyneb Saleh) also works as a waitress. We are shown their love rather than have it told to us, as one of the two partners talks very little. Here, the story thrives. Skarsgard achieves some very impressive mask work, telling us his thoughts and fears at all times through his eyes alone. Unfortunately, Naadirah goes missing. We learned only moments before that she was hiding something, and that she has some rather sketchy connections through her roommate.

Leo goes on a hunt for his missing love, uncovering a network of filth and mob connections in the process. All we needed was for Leo to be rebranded as a private eye and we would have a classic film noir. Deep in the web of criminals and erotic grunge lies "Cactus" Bill (Paul Rudd) and Duck (Justin Theroux), American army surgeons who have gone awol in the city and treat criminals underground.

We follow their story as much as Leo's, and the connection between them and Naadirah becomes more apparent as the mystery unravels. Unfortunately, the threads are tangled so that they are nearly indecipherable. I could barely follow the details of relationships and connections between various crooks and mob bosses, briefly losing track of names or who owes money to who and why. It seemed that the writing might have lost track as well, as Leo requires a deus ex machina to solve the mystery.

By the end, I became far more invested in the story of Bill and Duck. Their camaraderie is genuine and aspects of their stories are compelling. Though they play part in subplots that don't seem to end up terribly significant, their half of the movie is tonally different and worth further exploration.

Their personalities and attire clash with the world around them. Leo himself is a direct counter to the world of the movie. Being a mute Amish man surrounded by advanced technology but partaking in none of it, he successfully comes across as steadfast and brave in a world not his own.

There's even a direct "nature versus technology" moment, as Leo uses a wooden club to face off against the token "muscled bad guy" of the film, who wields a robotic leg.

The world itself is very akin to the feel of "Blade Runner," and Duncan Jones admits to the inspiration. It is, however, far more grimy and glittery, presenting itself as a bleak, cruel universe where little good can actually be achieved. This tracks with it's "noir" feel; though the fruitlessness of all endeavors might leave people feeling unfulfilled in the experience, in addition to the movie being at least half an hour too long.

The film is visually appealing, though viewers may find a better scratch for their cyberpunk itch in Netflix's new series "Altered Carbon." Here's hoping that Netflix continues to give opportunities to talented creators so they can make the movies they want, and here's hoping that audiences will be slightly more receptive to them.