Well, well, well. If you caught the first half of this two-parter, then I must be doing something right to have you coming back for more. If you haven’t, well, let’s just say I’ve gone down a bit of a rabbit hole with science fiction flicks on the world’s premier corporate streaming giant and escapism generator. Now that I’ve liquefied a sufficient portion of my brain, I’m here to tell you which films to check out and which ones to avoid. Last week we covered indie thrillers and Netflix originals; this week is more of the same. Buckle up.

Black Road (2016)

After leaving 2029 Seattle to win back his ex and find work in the newly-formed Free State of Jefferson (a near-lawless territory formed out of northern California and Oregon), cyborg gun-for-hire Dylan soon finds himself mired in sex and trouble with a femme fatale named Lisa, who needs a negotiator to help facilitate an agreement between herself and her cult leader (ex-)husband, Sterling. With the help of an implanted AI who calls himself Clyde (and acts as Dylan’s superego as well as a sixth sense and business partner), Dylan soon discovers that Sterling is more dangerous than anticipated, producing drugs that seem to control the minds of his followers. He and Clyde have been sucked into a whirlwind of murder and deceit, never able to piece the whole thing together until it’s too late.

Sharing traits with the 2012 film Looper (a personal favorite of mine), Black Road is a gritty, futuristic country noir that takes place in the gorgeous countryside of northern Oregon. However, don’t go in expecting full-on hyperviolent action–Black Road was made on a budget of $100,000, and it shows. Despite this, it’s a bold film, in my opinion, telling a kind of story that has largely otherwise been untold as of yet. While the acting is at times mediocre, the film’s greatest strength lies in Dylan and Clyde’s banter and bickering, presenting an interesting take on the relationship between man and machine. The story follows a classic noir format in the vein of Detour or The Postman Always Rings Twice, and while it can at times run a little slow for modern audiences, I found myself enraptured by Black Road’s sci-fi take on classic tropes. It’s certainly not for everyone, but if you want to see an independent future noir done well with the available resources, check it out.

Black Road – 5/10

Let’s Be Evil (2016)

In order to provide for her bedridden mother, protagonist Jenny signs on with the Posterity Project, a vaguely-defined initiative facilitated in the sublevels of a skyscraper. Jenny, along with coworkers Darby and Tiggs, are tasked with overseeing a group of “gifted” (re: “creepy”) children that learn using augmented reality glasses. But soon, in spite of the unlit maze of maintenance tunnels that the vast majority of the movie takes place in, it becomes clear that something evil is afoot.

Spoiler alert: it’s the kids. The kids are evil.

I would have tried to make a longer summary than what I have above, but I honestly couldn’t. That is how threadbare the plot of this movie is. While the concept of augmented reality is a topic of interest at Neon Dystopia, this film stands as a testament as to why there aren’t more cyberpunk media based around it. Instead, Let’s Be Evil is roughly thirteen times longer and somehow tells a less-substantial story than the short film “Hyperreality”. The story is told from Jenny, Darby, and Tiggs’ perspectives, through recording devices on their augmented reality glasses and presents a stale, dull take on the found-footage subgenre of horror films. The plot is laughable–slow and menial for the first half, contributing practically nothing to the story’s build. Even though these characters aren’t supposed to be aware that they’re in a horror movie, being trapped in a cold subbasement carved out of concrete and decorated only with pipes for months at a time and unable to see anything without the use of aforementioned Plot Device glasses is an obvious recipe for disaster. The acting is oftentimes grating and the characterization even worse, culminating in the film’s most unintentionally hilarious moment, in which Darby is unconvincingly held down by a group of children and suffocated with a plastic bag. And the film’s production design, as mentioned before, seems to have been slapped together in the basement of some warehouse, taking as much care one can by mounting pulsing, clashy neon lights on everything. It seems like Let’s Be Evil is trying to say something about the state of modern education–the film opens with an irate man on a news talk segment nonsensically comparing the state of modern education with the casualties of World War I–but this meaning is obscured by its predictable, flimsy ending. Please, please do not watch this.

Let’s Be Evil – 1/10

Singularity (2017)

In the near future, the owner of a robotics corporation creates an artificial intelligence network (dubbed Kronos) that instantly chooses to exterminate humanity for reasons that have become incredibly generic at this point in our own history. A young man (Andrew) is seemingly killed in the attack, but later discovers that he is no longer in a world he recognizes, now largely abandoned and patrolled by giant killing machines. Soon after emerging from a hole in the ground, Andrew meets a survivor (named Calia) who is searching for a way to be rid of the machines (by finding possibly the last human stronghold remaining, known as Aurora). Andrew and Calia grow a bond as they travel together, but Andrew is not what he seems; he is, in fact, an android housing the original Andrew’s memories, created by Kronos to find Aurora in order to destroy it. This threatens Andrew and Calia’s bond, as well as the existence of humanity, but as Hollywood has taught me, never underestimate an android with autonomy’s ability to rebel.

It pains me to say this, but Terminator: Salvation did it better, and eight years sooner to boot. To be fair, Singularity’s CGI and soundtrack are decent enough, given the budget, and the film’s sets and environments meet the standards set for your typical post-apocalyptic romp. However, even the most realistic-looking death robot can’t counteract the effects lingering from a cast that doesn’t look convinced of its existence themselves. Across the board, the acting is lacking in inspiration, ranging from male lead Julian Schaffner‘s slack-jawed, glazed-over reactions to the bored words of John Cusack‘s Kronos slithering out of his mouth. And, like Vice before it, Singularity’s only actor recognizable by most audiences is only seen on one set. This is likely due to the writing’s own tired, clichéd qualities–aside from being close to a full retread of one of the aforementioned Terminator series’ less-compelling chapters, Singularity manages to fumble around with an uninteresting romance between Andrew and Calia, features ample exposition dumps and an overly simplistic AI enemy, ends on a cliffhanger that I assume will never be resolved, and dips into thoughtless and naive ideologies and character development. I probably would have loved this when I was ten, and likely would serve as a worthy stepping stone into introducing that rare child in your life, on the cusp of developing their tastes, to cyberpunk. Otherwise, give it a hard pass.

Singularity – 3/10

Moon (2009)

Space cowboy Sam Bell is feeling good. He only has two weeks left on his three-year contract with the Lunar Corporation, the world’s premier provider of clean, sustainable helium-3 harvested from the moon’s surface. Once finished, Sam is going to return to his wife and daughter back on Earth after spending three years in near-total isolation, with an AI unit known as GERTY as his only companion. But before his contract expires, Sam is beginning to see the apparition of a young girl–an apparition which causes him to crash his rover during a routine checkup. Sam later wakes up in the Lunar base, having been told by GERTY that he was in an accident, but is disallowed from leaving to look at a broken-down harvesting machine. This is because this is a new Sam, as is soon revealed once Sam 2 sneaks out of the base to investigate the accident on his own. Both Sams are clones of the original Sam Bell and programmed with his memories, and Sam 1 is clearly reaching the end of his three-year life cycle, breaking down both mentally and physically. Though they find that there are unexpected differences between them, Sam 1 and Sam 2 realize that, by discovering the true nature of their existence, their lives are at risk, and they must work together to get out of this mess they’ve found themselves in.

Equal parts chilling, heartbreaking, and humorous, Moon is director Duncan Jones’ finest work to date and a fully-fleshed exploration of what it means to find out that you were a replicant the entire time. Sam Rockwell, the actor behind Sam 1 and Sam 2, delivers brilliant performances as both sides of the coin–Sam 1 is borderline insane after years of breathing moon dust and recycled air without human contact, whereas Sam 2, fresh out of cryo, is clean-cut and hot-blooded. This foil dynamic between two characters portrayed by the same actor makes for a fascinating watch, especially since the magic of modern editing creates seamless interactions between them. The set design, while minimal, effectively immerses the audience in its high-tech-but-gritty world. And to top it all off, space’s second-favorite composer (after John Williams) effectively sets the mood with a haunting score. It may not be a typical, neon-drugs-and-hardware cyberpunk film, but it’s a must-see for fans of the genre.

Moon – 9/10

Mute (2018)

As a child, Amish boy Leo loses the use of his vocal cords in an accident and cannot heal them due to his religious beliefs. Twenty years later, Leo is, for some reason, tending bar in a club in multi-lingual Berlin, living happily with his girlfriend, Naadirah. True to the formula, Naadirah is harboring a dark secret but disappears mysteriously before she can disclose it to Leo. As a result, Leo brutishly turns over the city’s underworld in a fruitless attempt to find her. In the meantime, AWOL ex-military member Cactus Bill (yes, that’s his actual goddamn name) along with compatriot Duck, under the thumb of a local crime boss, plot Bill’s escape with his daughter from Berlin using forged papers. Though the two storylines throughout the majority of the movie seem to have no bearing on one another, their connection becomes painfully obvious directly prior to its climax.

Equal parts tedious, poorly-written, and uninspired, Mute is Duncan Jones’ worst film to date and an exploration of, I dunno, what if there was a mute guy in the future? Mute was originally intended to be a movie set in the modern day, which becomes clear as the film’s production design is essentially copy/pasted from Blade Runner and populated by characters wearing pseudo-futuristic fashions more commonly seen in ’90s cyberpunk. This isn’t necessarily a negative–many of the sets were lovingly put together and represent the strongest part of the film. However, Mute’s status as cyberpunk begins and ends with the stylistic elements. Leo’s characterization as a speechless, Amish man feels like a strange, out-of-place role for someone living in the 2050s, as do a few of the locations, ranging from a cozy winter cabin to a bowling alley. Paul Rudd’s own attempt at playing resident scumbag Cactus Bill come off as particularly heavy-handed and unconvincing, and his performance can’t be salvaged by Justin Theroux’s, as well as he played Duck despite the absurd dialogue and motivations his character is given. Even Clint Mansell’s score is largely unmemorable.

But what irritated me, in particular, was the perpetuation of fairly blatant homophobia. No gay character is spared in this film, and there are more than the average. Duck and Cactus Bill imply at one point that they were once lovers, and are at one point even holding hands. Though ultimately their relationship remains unconfirmed by the film’s end, their characters are, respectively, a foul-mouthed psychopath and a child molester. Dominic Monaghan makes a cameo in one scene, dressed in a kimono and runny geisha makeup a la the famous pill ad from Blade Runner, has apparently been banging two crude male sex-bots, and shamelessly keeps autographed photos of all the prostitutes that have entertained him in a closet shrine. Even Luba, Mute’s mildest gay character, is shown as being mildly overdramatic at best and offers to sleep with Leo on several occasions. I don’t want to get overzealous about this, but it baffles me to see gay slurs thrown about by a pointlessly macho douchebag character in a script written by the son of David Freaking Bowie. I’m not saying these details should have been changed outright, but from my own feeble experience in creative writing, art is not a particularly truthful expression if there is an agenda behind it.

Mute – 5/10

Kill Command (2016)

After anomalous footage from a secluded island research facility is sent to cyborg executive Mills at the Harbinger corporation, she is assigned to investigate, backed by a squad of marines under the false pretense that the mission is a routine training exercise. However, it soon becomes clear that something else is at work; after an initial encounter with low-level combat drones, the marines are lulled into a false sense of security, and are soon after ambushed by machines that have the ability to study their enemies, analyze the data from each encounter, and reprogram their own behaviors, earning them the acronym SAR. Before long, it comes to light that Mills has had a hand in designing these machines, which have become intelligent enough to outsmart the marines but are unable to deny their own destructive programming. The SARs are continuously searching for greater challenges by moving from combat simulations to mercilessly slaughter the facility’s staff to sending a request for the marines to be dropped off on the training grounds for their own seemingly sadistic purposes. Cornered, outnumbered, and outgunned, Mills and the marines now find the tables have turned, having become target practice for this new breed of malevolent intelligence.

Unfortunately, Kill Command doesn’t exactly bring anything new to the table. Like many other military sci-fi action movies, the plot structure is almost identical to that of Aliens, centering around a gruff group of naval personnel accompanied by a character that isn’t quite traditionally human and sent to a secluded location under ominous circumstances and coming face-to-face with an inhuman menace. Obviously, there isn’t much of a punk element there to work off of for this to be classified as a purely cyberpunk film, which is highlighted by the clichéd banter shared by the marines early in the film. However, Kill Command interestingly takes cues from properties like Deus Ex and Ghost in the Shell in its sleek-yet-familiar design and worldbuilding, commenting on corporate involvement with the military, human augmentation, and posthumanism, which are all topics that are up our scummy, neon-soaked alley. It’s almost like a movie told from the perspective of a Belltower squad. Also, the use of CGI is, for the most part, rather well done for an independent production, but has some rather cringe-worthy moments as well. All in all, this is not an essential film in any regard, but if you like films like Pitch Black, The Predator, or other media along the lines of System Shock 2, this might be a good watch.

Kill Command – 5/10

Anon (2018)

Set in a retro near-future, Anon is a sci-fi noir in which all citizens are implanted with devices that allow them to interact with the Ether, an augmented reality overlay presented with vector graphics. In exchange for the convenience and safety that the Ether gives its users, said users must also sacrifice their privacy–everything a person sees or hears is now recorded, and, as with our own reality, withholding personal information is typically seen as suspicious behavior, especially for Sal Frieland, a detective that routinely uses these personal records as evidence in his cases, in spite of the ethical boundaries he might cross. The only people left that value privacy are hackers, who, to the best of their abilities, erase all traces of themselves from the Ether and other people’s records. These hackers find gainful, if illegal, employment by doctoring the records of wealthy individuals who have committed acts of infidelity, criminal intent, or an otherwise secretive nature. But this, unfortunately, comes to a head when Sal is assigned to a case involving a rash of murders, all of which point to a dangerous no-name hacker who is little more than a ghost and has a penchant for altering another’s perception of reality with little more than a snap of her fingers. Each murder has the same MO, with each victim’s visual feed being hacked into and replaced by the murderer’s in real time to protect their identity. In order to snare the hacker, Sal must lure her in by going undercover and hiring her, but soon finds himself in over his head in this tale steeped in vice and the fallibility of our own perceptions.

Anon marks writer/director Andrew Niccol’s finest science fiction movie since 1997’s impeccable Gattaca. I wish I’d had the opportunity to see this in a theater, but simply seeing a film with such a careful attention to detail without any prior knowledge of its production was a welcome surprise to me. However, instead of Gattaca’s vision of a bright, 1960s-stylized future, Anon seems to take more cues from a gloomy, 1970s British-inspired dystopia, filled to the brim with characters wearing muted colors and trim, dark suits, concrete buildings furnished with New Romanticist effects, and Niccol’s trademark: classic cars and fedoras. Despite what I said earlier about augmented reality’s role in cyberpunk, Anon manages to put it center stage without handling it clumsily. The Ether’s real-world overlay brings a new spin on the future’s overabundance in advertising with its minimalistic holograms, and Amanda Seyfried‘s femme fatale’s manipulation of Sal’s perception of reality, from tripping him up with a false landing on a staircase to causing him to get into a collision by turning his car onto a busy street that, in his eyes, was clear, felt clever and intuitive. However, the film devotes a lot of time to first-person camera angles and occasionally retreads over footage that we’ve already seen, which, for cinematography sticklers, may come off as boring directorial choices. There are also HBO-levels of sexual material, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but from my standpoint came off as arbitrary in terms of the storytelling. And, unfortunately, the story’s climax is a bit underwhelming, involving character motivations that are a bit shaky, but it manages to at least partially salvage the ending as the film resolves. But all in all, Anon is a cyber-noir that’s well worth watching. I should probably write a more in-depth article on this later, but until then, see it for yourselves.

Anon – 8/10

Thanks for plugging back in, folks. We’ll be reverting the format of these articles back to proper reviews from here on out, but if your thirst for the dystopian is as insatiable as mine, check out these series on Netflix until we slide something new your way:

Black Mirror (2011)

Colony (2016)

3% (2016)

Altered Carbon (2018)

B: The Beginning (2018)

Continuum (2012)

Dark Matter (2015)

Person of Interest (2011)