After Time Out in 2011, Andrew Niccol returns to the future with Anon, his new science fiction thriller that addresses the themes of privacy and new invasive technologies. Despite a very interesting aesthetic, the film struggles to captivate due to a poorly exploited scenario.
A seductive aesthetic that fits perfectly with the subject
In a future where privacy no longer exists, Sal (Clive Owen) sees his job much simplified now that he has access to all the data of anyone: all the visual memories of everyone are now recorded thanks to the Eye. A system reminiscent of the episode The Entire History of You of the series Black Mirror, in addition since Sal can see all the private data of anyone at a glance. Privacy no longer exists, even in death. The aesthetics of the film are thus very strongly marked by these permanent flows of information, which invade the screen as soon as we enter the gaze of a character. This visual choice also raises the question of a certain profitability of the vision, which here is no longer used to contemplate but to analyze.
Throughout the film, the camera will move between the eyes of the characters, and external fixed shots. The latter are often reminiscent of surveillance cameras by their position: under a bench, in the corner of a room … So many dives that tend to crush the characters, and especially Sal. The result is a feeling of malaise and permanent anxiety, a symbol of this over-examined society. In such a scenario, it is this mastery of the image (simple but effective) that allows the viewer to feel the oppression and quasi-totalitarianism of such a system. But the most interesting thing about this back and forth is the parallel he draws between the camera and human vision: each glance itself becomes this surveillance camera that scrutinizes the smallest details. Big Brother is everyone.
Where the image best serves its purpose is when Anon, a pirate whom Sal suspects is behind several murders, manages to take control of the Eye. Because if this technology can have advantages, it can also be used to distort reality, and show doctored images. Then follow the best moments of the film where Sal can no longer trust what he sees, and neither can the viewer. How do we know if the camera is not playing with our own gaze?But the scene (perhaps the most captivating of the film) is finally quite short, and perhaps we would have liked Andrew Niccol to play more with the ambiguity that this image game brings, or even to develop meta-cinematographic themes. Because in the end, isn't cinema itself a machine that shows us what it wants?
Exciting but poorly exploited issues
The biggest weak point of the film remains its script: after half an hour, the plot becomes very repetitive, without going to the end of its ideas. While the whole story could have gone to fascinating extremes (with the use of the hacking of the Eye, or Sal's tragic past), it stagnates in dialogues against a backdrop of detective plot that are hardly exciting.
So instead of dwelling on these few lengths, let's focus on the very exciting issues that the film poses (without really exploiting them). One of the most intriguing aspects of the film is the reconciliation between memories and backup folders. Indeed, the characters seem to store their memories in a matrix, and erasing them is only a matter of computers.This dystopian aspect of memory questions the viewer about the control he has over himself in the face of all the new technologies that evolve, and takes on a particular resonance when the term "ghost" is uttered. The ghost is first of all that of Anon, who does not want to give any information about his private life and is therefore invisible to the one who only seeks this information. The second is that of Sal's son, which is only one of several saved files and can disappear at any time. Can we really understand someone only through rational data? Are memories then just lines of code? So many questions to which the film unfortunately does not provide answers, and curious spectators will have to settle for a very insignificant resolution.
Just like these issues, the actors are also underexploited: it seems difficult for them to flourish in this scenario. Their performances stick perfectly to the characters, but without any particular stroke of brilliance. The long times of the film as well as the few landmarks (there is no temporal indication, and the past of the characters is vaguely evoked without real deepening, which is a height for a statement that claims to abolish privacy) prevent the viewer from feeling a real empathy for the main characters, and to project himself into this world.
Andrew Niccol finally struggles to develop his point, and the scenario seems hampered by an invisible barrier. While the viewer accustomed to Black Mirror episodes will expect an agonizing and fascinating climax, Anon offers us only a tenth of its exploitable possibilities. A film that may quickly fall into anonymity.
Anon Trailer
