Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die

If someone walked into a diner, demanded everyone's attention, then informed you he was from the future and needed volunteers to aid in saving humanity from AGI, which will be created in a nine-year-old boy's bedroom not far from here, would you join him? What if he told you this was his 117th attempt, and that he was convinced some specific combination of diners was the solution, but he just hasn't found it yet? And that he has no clue how to suss out such a group, nor exactly how big it should be, so he's just gonna hafta keep trying until he finds it, despite those missions leading to the (sometimes horrific) deaths of its participants, often as soon as they leave the diner? Oh, and he's wearing an unkempt, bushy beard, a transparent poncho, and a shit ton of wires and circuit boards and tubes sticking every which way off his underlying clothes, while agitatedly ranting and threatening to blow the place up.

It's a great device to put to audience on its back foot right away, and make clear that no matter how dire and hopeless the circumstances get, director Gore Verbinski and screenwriter Matthew Robinson are aiming for comedy above all else. Their success will depend on your personal sensibility, but they piece together a wild picture of the Man From the Future's (Sam Rockwell) previous attempts as he chastises people for things they did in another timeline. But his aggressively unhinged presentation ensures everyone just wants him to go away. So he ends up with a randomly assortment of unwilling adventurers, save for two volunteers: Susan (Juno Temple), a random suburban mom, and Ingrid (Haley Lu Richardson), a despondent young woman with a punk rock Disney princess look, complete with a dress evoking both Dorothy and Alice in Wonderland, signalling in no uncertain terms that things are about to get even weirder.

While Verbinksi employs flashbacks to fill in the recent past of the posse's key members, their true function is to lay down some very on the nose, well-worn satire that will form the backbone of the plot. Teenagers so addicted to their phones that they turn into a zombie hoard? Check. People completely checking out of reality and choosing to live in the "perfect" world of VR full time? Check. The dystopian way mass school shootings have become part of the "normal" background noise of American life? Check. The corporate desire to profit off all of society's most horrific failings, and for government agencies to support it? You betcha. There's something behind all of this about the destructive conformity in our need to publicly perform being "okay" and "well-adjusted", as seen in the plastic people that surround Susan and in contrast to the crippling anxiety substitute teacher Mark (Michael Peña) exudes, both in front of his class and to his girlfriend/fellow teacher Janet (Zazie Beetz). But it's never more than a fleeting thought, quickly pushed away by the manic energy the film barely ever lets go of.

It's fitting that the Everything Everywhere All At Once-esque chaos is meant to capture the vibe of modern existence as deeply influenced by technology and the internet, as it leans heavily into pastiche and even reference to construct it's plot beats. From The Wizard of Oz to Weapons, from The Matrix to Terminator, from Tetsuo: The Iron Man to Upgrade, and more. There's even a bit of Toy Story in the child's twisted toys at the end, which look like direct rip-offs of Sid's creations. That's not to imply there's no originality, or even that borrowing from other movies is a problem in and of itself; all art does it to some degree or another. But successful remixes blend their inspirations smoothly into the plot, all but disappearing into the surrounding elements. Verbinski's work is far more lumpy and uneven, resulting in a Frankensteined world that's borderline nonsensical instead of fantastical.

The artificiality never had a chance to go by unnoticed, given the script's weakness on account of tired tropes and eye-rolling ideas. Some goons of unknown origin are trying to stop them from reaching the boy for an unknown reason. Every character death is telegraphed ahead of time, eliminating any chance of an emotional impact, and rendering them pointless. The Man's flashback explains the death of the world from VR and AI depleting Earth's resources, and the loud obscuring of his mother's face makes it clear her identity will be important later. It also becomes important that Ingrid is allergic to wifi:, a fine enough sci-fi conceit, but her nosebleeds only come when she's spitting distance from a cell phone, despite all of us being constantly bathed in wireless signals at all times.

As implied by the target of the mission, Verbinski's central concern is the transformative way AI is being discussed and deployed in society. "AI will give you exactly what you want without any obstacles" cautions The Man. Fair enough; it's a worry strong enough to put him back in the director's chair for the first time in nearly a decade. But Robinson's script doesn't really have anything new or interesting to say about it, and Verbinski fails to add much. His gonzo visual style will no doubt result in a good time at the movies for many (see, the giant centaur made of kitties with an appropriately sized ball sack), but the ultimate idea is neither insightful nor satisfying nor compelling. Rockwell hurls himself into the role, and everyone else is doing a good enough job, but none of them are given anywhere near enough to work with, even as the movie attempts to land some emotional beats before the end is upon us.

I do not wish to give the impression the entire movie is a waste. It lands some of its jokes, Richardson does manage to sneak something into Ingrid that commands your attention at all times, and all of its targets are well selected despite their lack of creativity. The score is off-kilter in a way that's occasionally fun if not particularly special, and the production design is bonkers in the best way, even when its ideas are notably unoriginal. I admire the boldness of the ending amongst a sea of films that cannot seem to find their way to a coherent one, old and new, never mind one that catches you attention. But none of that makes up for a scattershot presentation that misses more often than it hits, especially at its bloated runtime that exceeds two hours.