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The problem with Ex Machina is that it presents the glossy surfaces of deep ideas and slow mounting dread, but never pays off on them or reaches an emotional crescendo in which answers and provocations are expelled. It just floats by on a trio of strong performances, top-notch effects work, beautiful scenery, and a persistently ominous musical score. All of the ingredients are there for a master work of smart science-fiction, but the soufflé never rises completely.
Given that it coasts upon the aphorisms of “less is more” and “God is in the details,” Ex Machina excels in establishing and sustaining tone and atmosphere, practically dripping with prolonged paranoia, sexual threats, and questions of consciousness. Like so much of modern science-fiction, it builds upon the foundation of Frankenstein, this time taking a creator-creation locked in struggle and adding an element of patriarchy to the mix. This becomes as nebulous and half-formed as the rest of the ideas trotted out, but the actors do great work in trying to sell it.
As I watched The Danish Girl I thought that Alicia Vikander was a strong performer, but that this was clearly not the role she should have been nominated for. Ex Machina is a much better demonstration of her gifts, as it allows her to play something other than long-suffering supportive wife, and it utilizes her past as a dancer to great effect. Her rigid body movements, quick gestures, and large staring eyes craft an unnerving first impression, and it pays off wonderfully in her final moments. As she removes the flesh from the failed experiments before her, Vikander’s Ava creates a new form, and stands in awe of her self-made reinvention.
Domhnall Gleeson had a great 2015 between his solid work here, charming turn in Brooklyn, and full-on maniacal posturing in Star Wars: The Force Awakens. He’s appropriately naïve walking into this sustained battle between victim-victimizer, but quickly becomes something a casualty between the increasingly blurred lines between the creator and his creation seeking liberation. But it’s Oscar Isaac who clearly dominates Ex Machina, sometimes a bit too much. He’s supposed to be the villain, but he’s so charming, so beguiling a presence that he threatens to undo our distrust of him. His peacocking, culminating in a synchronized disco-fueled dance routine with his mute servant (Sonoya Mizuno), and personal demons, if his character isn’t a full-blown alcoholic then he’s well on his way, aren’t given enough attention in the script, but Isaac works miracles in the role.
While I generally enjoyed Ex Machina, too much of the enigmatic nature left me feeling frustrated. Well, that and the tendency towards treating the female AI creations as half-sentient Fleshlights was a little icky. I’m not sure if that last fifteen minutes, in which Ava wreaks havoc upon her creator and coconspirator is enough to wash that away. What exactly drove Isaac to create and program his AI in this way? Ava’s refusal to be kept locked away lacks emotional heft as so much of her creator’s backstory and methodology remains a ghost in the machine. But if you can roll with these flaws in the script, Ex Machina provides many beautiful, sleek surface textures to enjoy, and a smarter variation of pulpy science-fiction.
