Alex Garland's Ex Machina (2014), with Alicia Vikander as Ava
We're Gonna Be Starting SomethingThe opening minutes of writer-director Alex Garland's futuristic Ex Machina (2014) set the tone and, inevitably, the tragic trajectory for the story in a way few films of the science fiction genre have achieved.
The brief opening sequence - short, sweet, to the point - introduces Caleb Smith (Domhnall Gleason), a fresh-faced, eager young computer geek who's just won a "contest" at a high-tech research facility somewhere in the U.S.
The first person to congratulate Caleb is a young woman of color, which raises the question: could she be a current or former girlfriend, the one who encouraged him to enter the contest? Soon, other colleagues gather around to congratulate him, as Caleb is quickly whisked off to meet the company's founder on his vast, remote estate - a two-hour helicopter ride over massive, ice-bound terrain.
As the helicopter lands in an open green field, Caleb's pilot instructs him to follow the river to the bosses' mansion, explaining that this is as close as he's allowed to get. Caleb crouches under the loud whir of the helicopter's rotors, a gesture of deference to the unseen higher powers. Caleb has positioned himself at either level with or slightly below the pilot's gaze, creating a visual representation that reinforces a certain "hierarchy."
"Keep your head down," the pilot admonishes, "and stay clear of the rotors." The warning is both practical and symbolic: Caleb should remember his "lowly" status, for there is a clear pecking order here, with the roles of master and servant set in stone. It's about as close a lesson in philosophy as the computer geek will get - at least, for now.
This same setup reverses itself near the film's end, when Ava, the humanoid robot, leaves the estate in Caleb's place, dressed in a fetching outfit, and looking every inch the attractive young woman. Does the pilot not recognize her? Is he aware that Caleb hasn't returned? Perhaps it's a different pilot, or Ava has concocted some excuse to explain her departure. Or maybe she'll overpower the pilot, in turn taking the helicopter for herself. She's certainly capable of such actions, which will relieve the pilot of his duties, one way or another.
It is also possible that the pilot knows better than to question the Maker's decisions. Familiar with the founder's eccentricities and penchant for secrecy, the pilot might prefer to keep silent, thus ensuring his survival. Caleb, meanwhile, was nearly blown away by the helicopter's rotors as it departed, forcing him to crouch even lower, nearly parallel to the ground, while being left alone to navigate the underbrush.
Checking his phone, Caleb finds there's "no service." Isolated and incommunicado, he spots what appears to be a windowless shack. As he cautiously approaches, a voice directs him to a screen, which performs a type of facial recognition. Before Caleb can fully recover from the experience, he receives a keycard, granting him access to the Maker's inner sanctum - a modern living space carved from solid rock. The furniture is sleek and spare, with spherical lights, bare-bones seating, and imposing rock encrusted walls - nature rendered cold and uninviting.
Moving swiftly to the "patio," Caleb proceeds to an outdoor courtyard where the Maker, a pumped-up Nathan Bateman (Oscar Isaac, in a buzzcut), is vigorously working a punching bag. As Nathan unwinds the tape from his fists, his appearance is like that of a Prometheus unbound, ready to take on the world.
"Caleb Smith" - a name both biblical and ordinary. In the presence of his superior, this seemingly "regular guy" Caleb forces a smile, his face tense with nervous apprehension.
"Dude!" Nathan greets him with exaggerated enthusiasm. The Maker offers Caleb some refreshment. Despite his efforts at forced camaraderie, Nathan's self-absorbed demeanor makes Caleb uncomfortable. Caleb timidly enquires about the supposed "party" he'd imagined participating in, but quickly realizes it's only going to be the two of them - no party, no press, just him and his boss.
"You're freaked out," Nathan observes, cogently reading Caleb's reaction to the impressive surroundings and their awkward meeting. Nathan's attitude is unapologetically aloof; he's far too self-important to "meet" Caleb on his level. In Nathan's superior mind, Caleb is akin to a lab specimen, either a rat or a chimpanzee, fit only for observation.
For them to "hit it off," Caleb must elevate himself to Nathan's intellectual level. Thus, the use of biblical designations to emphasize this dynamic - how can these Old Testament names thrive in a modern-day world of higher mathematics, advanced computer engineering, cloning, robotics, and artificial intelligence?
In an attempt to break the tension, Caleb reminds Nathan of the need to move beyond the "boss and employee" dynamic to make their collaboration work. With that, Nathan introduces Caleb to his keycard's restricted "pass" access: some doors readily open for him, but others will remain closed and strictly off limits. So-called "rites of passage" are involved. This restriction, foreshadowing what is to come, will prove significant later on.
The Name GameThe title Ex Machina comes from the Latin Deus ex machina, or "God from a machine," an ancient literary device where a divine figure appears to resolve prickly plot dilemmas by the simplest of means.
But in Garland's world, there is no "God," only an obviously fallible human inventor - a self-proclaimed, self-made, certifiable genius hiding behind a façade of benevolence. Nathan, a complex character, is abusive, self-centered, misanthropic, and contemptuous of women. He's also a loner, a man with an obvious God-complex and a heightened sense of his own superiority, obsessed with pushing boundaries best left untouched by humankind.
Nathan plays a little game with Caleb, a version of Let's Make a Deal: What's behind door Number One? Now try door Number Two. It's break time for Nathan, designed to take the unsuspecting Caleb off the trail before he's had a chance to snoop around. Do we hear "control freak" in the air?
Caleb marvels at his room, a subterranean cell-like chamber with four walls and no window. "Claustrophobic" is how Nathan describes it. There's a reason for the lack of windows, it being a research facility, which segues into Nathan's explanation for Caleb's presence.
Before they go any further, the computer geek is told he's part of an experiment involving artificial intelligence. But first, there's a non-disclosure agreement that Caleb must read and agree to sign - standard issue in these secretive surroundings. Fine, but this agreement covers any and all areas of communication. In sum, Caleb's entire life will henceforth be monitored and subject to scrutiny.
Wow! What is it that CEO and intellectual brainiac Nathan not want to share with the world at large? What does he prefer to keep under wraps? And why is Caleb the chosen one for this type of experiment? Already, things do not get off to a positive or even promising start.
The next thing you know, they are discussing the Turing Test of A.I., and how one can determine if you are talking with an artificial intelligence or a human life form. Or, in some cases, a highly sophisticated computer. When Caleb learns what Nathan has invented - that is, an A.I. capable of fooling a human - it's the stuff of the gods, a true creation. Or is it?
What does actual creation involve? In many instances, creation, an active and visible form of construction, goes hand-in-hand with destruction, or the tearing down of what once was alive, by artificial means or otherwise. Both the act of creating and the detritus that's left behind work in tandem with one another. Where one survives, implying "life," the other does not, implying "death."
(End of Part One)
To be continued....
Copyright © 2024 by Josmar F. Lopes
