Understated, refined sound design also earns top marks. The way Cleary and the visual effects team incorporate futuristic technology such as enhanced communication devices and robotics (especially given that the film is distributed by Apple, an innovative leader in design) adds to the world-building aspects without distracting from the story. And Jay Wadley’s symphonic score reflects Cameron’s anguished, pensive psyche. Cynthia Ann Summers’ costume design also helps differentiate their soon-to-be splintering lives, cloaking Cameron in deep, rich hues and Jack in lighter color shadings. Their color palettes are somewhat synced, mirroring the connection forming between Cameron and his duplicate. The aesthetics of the two worlds - the cozy Turner family home and the sparsely modern Arra institute - are vastly different in location and stylistic design, yet the same in their palpable feel of gentle serenity and safety. The combination of Masanobu Takayanagi’s natural, humanistic lighting and Annie Beauchamp’s superb, grounded production design makes the near future look like a familiar reality not too far off from our own.
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Ali’s performance is full of pathos, nimbly negotiating the turns and nuanced facets of his dual role with skill, refinement and open-hearted vulnerability, where we see two clearly, cleverly defined portraits of one soul. Harris is dynamic, turning in work that’s filled with depth and dimension. Ali and Harris have impeccable chemistry, making us feel the profundity and stakes of their romantic relationship. Spinning a winning, delicate love story would be almost impossible if not for the performances of the leads. Though his resentment has a slow-burning build, Cameron’s paranoia of his clone Jack lasts all of one scene, essentially included to provide the impetus for the gut-wrenching goodbyes. Since seizures are uncontrollable, it stretches credulity that no one close to Cameron has ever witnessed an episode. Still, there are a few slightly discordant pieces that could’ve used some smoothing. The “out of body” surrealist motif subtly threaded throughout the film’s fabric, from the sketches Cameron draws of a man floating in different spaces to his actual memory transference, is palpable and entrancing. The filmmakers lean into evolving emotional tones gracefully without being overly maudlin or saccharine. The narrative engages meaningfully with Cameron’s internal and external conflicts, as well as thematic ties to identity, personality and morality. While replacing himself for his wife’s benefit may seem duplicitous on the protagonist’s part, the film makes it clear this spares her not only the burden of grief, but also the burden of keeping the clone a secret. As the memories of his love and discord with Poppy surface, they bring up latent emotions and doubts.Ĭleary and editor Nathan Nugent establish a visceral energy, efficiency and economy of time through quick-cutting montages that speak to the deep throes of love and loss that have affected this couple’s journey. He also befriends another ailing patient, Kate (Awkwafina), who lightly mentors him through the tough transition. Days are spent examining every minute facet of his memories, from his sweet meet-cute with Poppy on a train to their marital strife, both being affected by the death of her twin brother Andre (Nyasha Hatendi). His reticence quickly fades after another seizure occurs, sending him on a week-long interlink “retreat” at the company’s remote, rain-drenched forest facility. Increasing the pressure are not only the ticking time bomb in his head, but also the fact that Poppy’s pregnant, making this the optimal time for a switch. Though Cameron initially pursues the body-swap idea, he suffers a crisis of conscience, not knowing if deceiving his wife and his cute-as-a-button young son (Dax Rey) is the right way to preserve their family unit.