Ex Machina is a slick, atmospheric and measured sci-fi thriller which promises that slight bit more than it delivers.
Essentially a three-hander, the film details the experience of Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), after he wins, by apparently random selection, a week in the highly exclusive company of reclusive eccentric Nathan (Oscar Isaac). The enigmatic host soon reveals an ulterior motive for inviting him, and Caleb finds himself administering a week-long Turing test to Nathan’s artificially intelligent robot, Ava, played well by Alicia Vikander.
Ex Machina excels at unease; the viewer is left as ignorant as possible of context and motive, leaving the plot development refreshingly unpredictable. Central to this are the performances. Gleeson is, at first glance, simply duplicating his persona from last year’s Frank, embodying the passive everyman, distinctive primarily in his mere proximity to genius. There is, however, an unmissable undercurrent of mystery, Gleeson’s enthusiastic and forthright charm distracting the viewer from the gradually evident opacity of his motivations.
Oscar Isaac continues to beguile with his sheer versatility. Underappreciated for last year’s nuanced performance in Coen brothers’ masterpiece Inside Llewyn Davis, Isaac here is completely transformed. He offers one of those rare performances which exudes both charisma and awkwardness, infusing even comic lines with an effective kind of creepiness. Vikander similarly plays it confidently, although with a role much more familiar to the screen. There are shades of I, Robot in her character, and Spike Jonze’s Her springs to mind as an immediate comparison; although certainly Ex Machina benefits from not focusing excessively on the romance angle. Vikander’s performance is appropriately restrained, for someone playing in many senses an object, physically and romantically.
Alex Garland’s direction is assured and unspectacular. The tone is very nicely maintained; the build-up of tension is unrelenting, and not always through obvious developments. A highly surreal disco-dancing scene adds an almost Lynchian flavour to the proceedings, and I can only wish that Garland had included more of this inventiveness. The setting is bright, futuristic yet plausible, and serves as an effectively memorable setting for the action, without any particular charm or boldness.
It is an unusual move in mainstream cinema today to under-explain. This is Ex Machina’s great strength, and its great disappointment. So effective is Garland at generating this tension, at sustaining this mystique, this contextless bubble of action, that the film inevitably fails to resolve satisfactorily. The ending is not unintelligent, is not implausible, but seems constrained by the commitment to understatement. This is a film that many will enjoy, some will love, yet frustrates in its own proximity to greatness.