The sobering prescience of Kathryn Bigelow’s… | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

The sober­ing pre­science of Kathryn Bigelow’s Strange Days

13 Oct 2020

Words by Thomas Hobbs

Two individuals, a woman and a young girl, stand in front of a colourful backdrop with signage. The woman wears a black jacket and the girl a bright patterned coat.
Two individuals, a woman and a young girl, stand in front of a colourful backdrop with signage. The woman wears a black jacket and the girl a bright patterned coat.
The director’s 1995 tech noir isn’t her most crit­i­cal­ly or com­mer­cial­ly suc­cess­ful film, but it might just be her most important.

The city of Los Ange­les is in flames as angry pro­tes­tors take to the streets fol­low­ing the death of an unarmed Black man at the hands of two racist white police offi­cers. Despite this upris­ing, the LAPD seem com­plete­ly unfazed, con­tin­u­ing to dish out vio­lence with impuni­ty. The rise of immer­sive vir­tu­al real­i­ty tech­nol­o­gy means many more peo­ple are sit­ting at home, more con­cerned with escap­ing this grim real­i­ty than play­ing an active role in chang­ing it. Rev­o­lu­tion is in the air, and there’s a nag­ging sense that the Amer­i­can Dream is on the brink of collapse.

While this might read like a sto­ry ripped from the news head­lines in 2020, it’s actu­al­ly the plot of Kathryn Bigelow’s sci-fi noir Strange Days. Released 25 years ago, the film con­tains a pre­scient warn­ing about the increas­ing­ly inva­sive and addic­tive nature of tech­nol­o­gy, cen­tring its near-apoc­a­lyp­tic events around lov­able rogue Lenny Nero (Ralph Fiennes), a for­mer cop turned hus­tler who sells SQUID (Super­con­duct­ing Quan­tum Inter­fer­ence Device) to cus­tomers via the black market.

SQUID is a vir­tu­al real­i­ty head­set that records its wearer’s expe­ri­ences. It allows users to sub­se­quent­ly live out oth­er people’s mem­o­ries, no mat­ter how sex­u­al­ly explic­it (at one point Lenny brags that he can turn a rich busi­ness­man into an 18-year-old girl tak­ing a show­er) or vio­lent (anoth­er one of his expe­ri­ences’ turns a user into a bank rob­ber with a shot­gun) they might be. This process is pre­sent­ed as some­thing dan­ger­ous­ly com­pul­sive, pro­vid­ing a rush that goes way beyond what any Class A drug can offer. Lenny, who is dressed more like a Columbian cocaine deal­er than a tech sales­man, even boasts to one wealthy client, I’m the San­ta Claus of the sub­con­scious. Think it and you can have it.”

When one of Lenny’s female friends is bru­tal­ly raped and mur­dered by some­one armed with a cou­ple of SQUID devices, she’s forced to expe­ri­ence her attack in real-time from the per­spec­tive of her nihilis­tic killer. The tech­nol­o­gy hor­rif­i­cal­ly height­ens her pain. As the year 2000 fast approach­es, a high-octane search for the cal­lous cul­prit ensues, with Lenny backed by friend and high-end taxi dri­ver Lor­nette Mace” Mason (a sparky Angela Bas­sett, serv­ing as the film’s moral com­pass). While this mys­tery unfolds, civ­il unrest breaks out across the city fol­low­ing the mur­der of rad­i­cal­ly polit­i­cal rap­per Jeriko One (Glenn Plum­mer), whose assas­si­na­tion by the LAPD has been cap­tured via SQUID – although the pub­lic is unaware of this.

Man in dark patterned shirt aiming a handgun indoors.

From mass upris­ings and insti­tu­tion­al racism to the con­cept of vio­lence as a sadis­tic new form of dig­i­tal cur­ren­cy and enter­tain­ment, Bigelow’s film is packed with thought-pro­vok­ing ideas. This per­haps explains why it tanked at the box office (it made back just $8m of its $42m bud­get), as the premise was a tough sell to main­stream movie­go­ers primed for a Ter­mi­na­tor-esque tech thriller (inci­den­tal­ly, James Cameron wrote the screen­play). Viewed today, how­ev­er, Strange Days feels less like a cau­tion­ary tale about the future and more like an uncan­ny reflec­tion of the world we live in.

From VR head­sets to Snapchat fil­ters, we live in an age where con­sumer tech­nol­o­gy can instan­ta­neous­ly place us in anoth­er person’s body, while our most inti­mate per­son­al moments are rou­tine­ly cap­tured with­in the dig­i­tal sphere. Being able to expe­ri­ence graph­ic depic­tions of vio­lence and sex­u­al imagery is a mere Google search away. Bigelow’s film taps direct­ly into these exis­ten­tial fears, while its chief con­cern that tech­nol­o­gy will become more and more insu­lar aligns per­fect­ly with the pro­lif­er­a­tion of social media. Lenny’s occu­pa­tion isn’t dis­sim­i­lar to a dark web sales­man – he’d make a killing in 2020.

The way Amer­i­ca is depict­ed as being ruled by an aggres­sive Law and Order police state, where offi­cers freely erase any­one who gets in their way, as well as the mur­der of Jeriko One, which has obvi­ous echoes of the death of George Floyd and so many oth­er black lives, are dis­tinct­ly Trumpian themes. Yet it’s the idea that all of this anar­chy could be defeat­ed by alter­ing our reck­less rela­tion­ship with tech­nol­o­gy that makes Strange Days feel so much more rel­e­vant now than it did back in 1995.

In a piv­otal scene, Mace tells Lenny of her aver­sion to SQUID. Mem­o­ries are meant to fade. That’s why they’re made that way!” It’s a pro­found state­ment that sug­gests many of humanity’s prob­lems are dri­ven by our fas­ci­na­tion with digi­tis­ing real expe­ri­ences. She hints at a hope­ful alter­na­tive that seems to tal­ly with what a lot of peo­ple are cur­rent­ly feel­ing, as mil­lions con­tem­plate dis­con­nect­ing from their dig­i­tal avatars. (Accord­ing to Edi­son Research, Face­book had 15 mil­lion few­er users in 2019 than it did in 2017, and this decline is pre­dict­ed to accel­er­ate fur­ther.) After all, isn’t life, as Mace affirms, some­thing that’s bet­ter off lived?

Ulti­mate­ly, despite the dark­ness of its nar­ra­tive and Matthew F Leonetti’s grungy cin­e­matog­ra­phy (some­where between Blade Run­ner and the Smells Like Teen Spir­it’ music video), Strange Days finds light and leaves us with a mes­sage of hope (as well one of the best kiss scenes ever). In a pow­er­ful cli­mat­ic scene, Mace, a Black woman, sym­bol­i­cal­ly fights back against oppres­sive police offi­cers, revers­ing an inher­ent­ly racist pow­er dynam­ic and spark­ing the crowd to stand in sol­i­dar­i­ty with her as a rev­o­lu­tion final­ly manifests.

The film ends in a strong insis­tence on hope. Ulti­mate­ly it’s human­i­ty, not tech­nol­o­gy, that takes us for­ward,” Bigelow said in an inter­view around the film’s release. Per­haps we’re now faced with a sim­i­lar moral dilem­ma. Con­tin­ue as things are or strive for some­thing bet­ter, where life isn’t com­plete­ly gov­erned by tech­nol­o­gy. A new gen­er­a­tion watch­ing a strong char­ac­ter like Mace Mason for the first time might just be inspired to take action.

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