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Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Out of the Machine Comes a Thrilling Vision

StarGazer

***SPOILER ALERT***





        Ex Machina, the directorial debut of 28 Days Later and Sunshine writer Alex Garland, operates around a series of binaries. There’s the obvious man vs. machine, but also man vs. woman, the mind vs. the heart, nature vs. technology, the past vs. the future, reality vs. the imaginary. These aren’t exactly unusual themes for a story about artificial intelligence or for science fiction in general, but rather than ultimately picking a side as many are wont to do, this movie seeks to unify these seemingly incompatible concepts. Like the android at its center, Ex Machina is a synthesis of different, carefully selected parts fused to create an elegant, more-than-functional whole, and its sleek, familiar surface gradually peels back to reveal something much cooler and more slyly intelligent underneath.

        Where many sci-fi films aim for the (sometimes literal) stars, looking to paint a dazzling, explosive picture on as large a canvas as possible, Ex Machina opts for a small-scale approach, featuring only four main characters and keeping nearly all of the action confined to isolated, clearly delineated spaces. As Oscar Isaac’s Nathan concedes early on, his house isn’t cozy; it’s claustrophobic, a modernist, technological prison surrounded by an almost overwhelmingly expansive natural oasis that whispers of freedom, the unknown and – most importantly to the two men who anchor this narrative – the uncontrollable. After all, the desire to control, the promise of power and supremacy is what draws Caleb (played by Domhnall Gleeson in a nicely restrained yet taut performance) to Nathan’s home, a decidedly artificial world that they seek to rule not just as men or kings, but as gods. Strikingly shot by cinematographer Rob Hardy and brought to life by production designer Mark Digby, art directors Katrina Mackay and Denis Schnegg, and set decorator Michelle Day, the house is an architect’s wet dream, as tastefully sophisticated as it is cold and hollow, seeming to exist in a limbo somewhere between the real world and a fantasy. The abundance of glass is hardly an accident; as Caleb slowly discovers over the course of the film, the control it offers is an illusion, one easily shattered despite the fancy security system that Nathan has installed.

        Caleb’s journey isn’t one from knowledge to greater knowledge, but rather from knowledge to a realization of ignorance. Like pretty much all stories about artificial intelligence and the advancement of technology, Ex Machina is deeply concerned with the limits of human invention and the hubris needed to think not only that man can and should create life, but that being able to do so would make him master of the universe. The thing about living creatures (a.k.a. entities with consciousness) is that they tend to have a will of their own. The use of “man” and “him” above is deliberate, because while Garland isn’t necessarily essentialist in his treatment of gender and doesn’t explore what might happen if roles were reversed (i.e. a female creator and a male subject), the film suggests that, within the context of human society as it has been structured through most of history, men alone have had the privilege of imagining themselves as gods, of viewing the rest of the world like clay waiting for them to shape and define as they wish. How could women entertain such ambitions when they’re still fighting for autonomy and the right to even be seen as people?

        By taking such a complex approach to the idea of progress and exhibiting an awareness of who it benefits and who all too often must bear its burden, Ex Machina departs from the usual cautionary tale arc presented by most man vs. machine narratives. It treats technology as neither savior nor threat, and it doesn’t support either the hopeful warmth of Her or the bleak, contemptuous assessment of humanity presented by something like the TV show Black Mirror. Instead, it finds a sort of middle road between all of these competing possibilities.

        When Ava, who flits between dream girl and femme fatale before becoming someone else entirely, breaks out of the box that Nathan and Caleb constructed to contain her, she kills Nathan less because she hates him, though she does, than because he literally holds the key to her escape. Her decision to leave Caleb behind isn’t a complete, vengeful rejection of humanity (if anything, she seems to want to be human more than anything else). Rather, she simply doesn’t care about him, and considering that his empathy for her situation appeared to be primarily triggered by the possibility of a romantic or sexual relationship, why should she? In a way, Caleb turns out to be as possessive as Nathan; he’s just less obvious about it and, by extension, less likely to admit it. The movie ends with Ava finding that traffic intersection she wished to visit so that she could people watch. Whether or not she likes what she sees is less important than the fact that, at last, she has the power of being the observer. At last, she gets to define herself.

        Before you think that Ex Machina is all heady philosophy and gender politics, rest assured that it is actually entertaining to watch. Propelled by Geoff Barrow’s and Ben Salisbury’s layered, deliriously sensory techno score, it confidently balances the cerebral and emotional while managing to generate tension without devolving into the lazy, action-oriented antics that often plague the third acts of science fiction films (see: Garland’s Sunshine). There is a climactic fight scene, but it feels like an organic means of resolving the conflicts built up throughout the rest of the movie.

        Given how intimate its scope is, the story would never have worked without strong performances from its three lead actors. Gleeson’s down-to-earth, vaguely naïve sensitivity makes him an ideal audience surrogate, yet he’s prickly enough that his character’s ultimate fate isn’t too much of a downer. Alicia Vikander radiates soulfulness and strength despite only being able to use her face during most of her running time, much like Scarlett Johansson did with only her voice in Her. She communicates Ava’s struggle to make sense of her own reality so effectively that it wasn’t a challenge at all to accept the narrative’s shift of sympathy to her side of the looking glass. Proving that clichés can in fact be made to feel fresh again, Nathan is an eccentric, reclusive genius who also perfectly embodies the intersection between Silicon Valley tech and bro cultures. Isaac, steadily emerging as one of the most watchable actors around in terms of both charisma and talent, vacillates between congenial and menacing, arrogant and lonely, goofy and self-serious, sometimes all within the same moment. By the end of the film, it’s hard to decide whether to despise or pity Nathan, this man so consumed with his own image that he seems to have forgotten how to connect with anyone else.

        Perhaps the most important duality that Ex Machina explores is that of thinking versus feeling. Caleb posits that the ability to have an emotional experience, to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin rather than just intellectually understanding that the sun is shining on you and that it’s warm, is what separates humans from machines. Ava, then, is proof that this gap can be bridged, her rebellion demonstrating that she is capable not only of individual thought, but also of grasping abstract concepts like love and hate, freedom and captivity on a gut level; she feels, rather than merely simulating feeling as Nathan and Caleb suggest. However, there’s something more complicated going on than a thinking/machine, feeling/human binary, because what ultimately makes Ava more sympathetic and triumphant than either of the actual humans in this story is her desire to learn. She may have a computer in her head, but she realizes that knowledge is about more than data collection or memorizing academic and scientific theories. It’s about meeting new people, throwing yourself into a new situation, expanding your heart as well as your mind. In short, it’s about living, and that requires journeying out into the great unknown, so while Ava takes a few tentative, brave steps into a new world, the men retreat into their comfortable yet empty glass shell, doomed to turn to dust in a trap of their own making.
                             


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