Like all classic sci-fi, Reversion‘s central conceit springs from contemporary social and political concerns. It’s hardly surprising then, that Jack’s motives for developing the technology may not be altogether benign. (Just Google “Anti-Vaxxer,” “Big Pharma” or “global warming” to see such consequences in real-world action.) This perception remains incendiary in an age when the fear of science still has real consequences. Here, Reversion borrows from conspiracy theories, as well as spectacular mad science and body horror, all aspects of a layperson’s perception of neuroscience as a process of prodding at the brain. Soon enough, she’s abducted by a mysterious woman (Jeanette Samano), who’s seeking the code to turn off an implant placed in her brain without her consent. Once Sophie leaves the bar, a staged car crash separates her from her loyal driver and bodyguard Ayden (Gary Dourdan). She doesn’t just reject him, but delivers a dose of existential terror, Their exchange also hints at a casual destructiveness that Sophie’s moneyed poise can’t mask. When Sophie puts off the advances of a man in a bar with a gentle but also shocking rebuttal, she jolts him out of his self-assurance. Indeed, we learn that she’s haunted by the suicide of her mother and feeling lonely, her every interaction related to her job or mediated by her father. We imagine undercurrents of something uncontrolled and dangerous in Sophie, beneath the clean, reflective surfaces surrounding her. It’s apparent early that Sophie isn’t as she appears, our suspicions encouraged by striking wide shots that repeatedly place her only just in frame. The OS-human romance Her has already posited this problem, but unlike Spike Jonze’s film, which might be described as quirkily sweet, Reversion has hard edges. With these allusions and several plot points, Reversion offers an obvious critique of our tech-dependent lives and corporate systems, as well as the idea that we might seek comfort, inspiration, and fulfillment of emotional needs from our devices. Even Jack, trim, vigorous, and secretive, suggests Steve Jobs. Reversion’s tech firm recalls, of course, Apple, in its slick, theatrical product launches, its narrative advertising, and the intuitive “feel” of its merchandise. Reversion doesn’t bother too much with explanations of how this might work, but it transpires that over-use of the device has a significant side effect. A discreet earpiece that could be mistaken for jewelry, with its matching app, Oubli allows users to relive in vivid detail their most treasured memories. We meet Sophie (Aja Naomi King) and her father Jack (Colm Feore), a neuroscientist and tech mogul, as they’re planning for the imminent launch of their new gadget, Oubli. At the same time, Jose Nestor Marquez’s science fiction film develops a sense of menace, imagining a near future where technology determines experience.Īt first, this technology assumes a commercial form. Measured and glossy, Reversion has just enough violence to be termed a “thriller”.
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