Locked in a Brain Cell

1001 Movies To See Before Your Netflix Subscription Dies, Part 41
Travis Milloy (writer-director), Infinity Chamber

Frank Lerner awakens in a spit-shined, glossy prison cell. He has no recollection how he arrived, or when. His only contact is Howard, a corrections officer he only meets through a suspended security camera. Frank struggles to reconstruct events leading to his arrest, hoping to return to real life. But Howard has orders: he must interrogate Frank, using complex hallucinogenic stimulators. Howard, Frank realizes, is a computer.

Writer-director Travis Milloy creates a moody, smothering dystopia of constant surveillance, which is more remarkable for his limited budget. He shot this movie for less than most Hollywood productions spend on hair and makeup. He completely eschewed digital effects, using Hitchcock-like camera techniques to conceal his simple, practical design. The product looks sleek and expensive, and more polished than some recent big-studio extravaganzas.

Desperate for information, Frank agrees to strategic horse-trades with Howard. He submits to interrogations, provided Howard shares whatever data he can. These interrogations involve putting Frank into a trance and returning him to the hours before his arrest. In return, Howard shares… not much. Almost every question returns the answer “I can’t access that information, Frank.” As he constantly reminds Frank, Howard can only do what he’s programmed to do.

Frank’s trances, meanwhile, become increasingly intricate. Howard keeps returning Frank to a Los Angeles café, and a fleeting encounter with a pretty barista, Gabby. However, Frank doesn’t merely repeat the same memory. He quickly begins manipulating events, prying his own recall for details. (“Frank” is an ironic name; we learn he’s far from forthcoming. “Lerner” is loaded, too.) Soon, he controls the interrogation sessions, or anyway he thinks he does.

Christopher Soren Kelly, as Frank, paces his narrow cell, arguing with Howard, conveying both urgency and claustrophobia with only a few repeating movements. Kelly’s performance suggests a young Al Pacino, before he started shouting almost every role. Jesse D. Arrow plays Howard with a passive-aggressive air that barely conceals his menace, accentuated by restless “body language” from his security camera. We almost forget the actor isn’t onscreen.

Frank Lerner (Christopher Soren Kelly) strategizes his escape in Infinity Chamber

On one level, this movie unpacks themes familiar from more iconic productions, like The Matrix and Dark City. Frank begins to question the evidence of his senses, because the hallucinations Howard produces are so elaborate, he can’t distinguish the borders of reality. However, we don’t simply rehash those Hollywood standards. This movie cares more about issues of power and authority, and our ability to make informed decisions in civil society.

Because, we learn from Frank’s interrogations, he lives in a pervasive surveillance state. Pedestrians find themselves constantly harangued by spy drones, and cash registers have built-in retinal scanners. Made shortly after Edward Snowden pantsed President Obama’s NSA, this movie stresses that it’s not possible to dance the line between security and freedom, because there’s no line. Powerful institutions always use “security” to bolster their dominion over us peons.

Frank maintains two relationships throughout this movie. He becomes amiable with Howard, his jailer, and they even begin calling each other friends. Howard starts helping Frank, asking prodding questions that unlock troubling memories. Meanwhile, as Frank manipulates his hallucinations, his memory of the barista, Gabby, becomes self-aware, and they develop a romance. Subtle visual cues, however, suggest this romance is just another top-level power play.

We learn America, outside Frank’s prison cell, is undergoing a revolution. Massed citizens, angry about official hypocrisy and abuse, have turned violent, and the state has retaliated. But, like in more conservative revolutionary films, this rebellion is mainly reported, not witnessed. We care more about individuals and their choices, than big, sweeping themes. While America struggles to throw off state power, Frank struggles to reclaim individual autonomy, with mixed success.

Milloy maintains a careful balance throughout this film. Frank and Howard argue and explain, while Frank and Gabby strategize, two complex ballets of verbal complexity. However, Milloy salts the movie with visual clues that the topics Frank discusses verbally, only scratch the surface of reality. The tension between what Frank says, and what Frank fails to see, comes to a sudden but remarkably subdued peak in the movie’s final scene.

Some critics suggest this movie is occasionally overlong. I suggest those critics weren’t paying attention. Even in scenes where the movie appears to turn thoughtful and languid, it plants seeds which bloom later. In a science fiction environment that has become cluttered with Star Wars or the MCU, with their love of explosions, this movie relies on character arcs and attentive audiences. Not one moment in this film is wasted.