Zoe is a 2018 sci-fi film about how synthetic humans can feel and even love, and how the people they are involved with react to this concept.
I always appreciate a film that takes a few risks with something that seems already set in stone, attempting to break boundaries while keeping itself recognizable. Few filmmakers can pull this off where the effort is worth noting. And it’s because of that, I was immediately drawn to Drake Doremus‘ latest sci-fi drama Zoe, a frustratingly hazy odyssey that is packed with tremendous potential to perhaps redefine elements it clings to, but unfortunately, despite some very strong performances and a genuinely dreamy quality to its visuals, is a curious misfire.
In a not so distant future, advancements in finding a true love connection are just a short interview away, using a company called Relationist that relies on a complex but entirely accurate system of algorithms to hook people up. More so, the company, appearing to be run by Cole (Ewan McGregor) and Zoe (Léa Seydoux), make astonishingly authentic synthetic humans, creations so realistic, they have legitimate realtime emotional reactions, are able to learn, and in all essence, are people. Naturally, there are consequence, especially as a synthetic named Ash (Theo James) comes on line and Zoe finds herself attracted to Cole. There’s also a new drug on the streets, one that temporarily simulates the euphoric feelings of being in love.
The big question at the heart of the film is of course, can a real person be in love with a creation that isn’t. It’s not a new one of course, movies long exploring similar themes, with Ridley Scott‘s now classic Blade Runner perhaps the most well-known, having androids implanted with false memories and believing they are their own. It’s not as though Doremus, working from a script by Richard Greenberg, doesn’t recognize this and instead of trying to hide what we already know is coming – because you can be sure what you’re thinking is exactly what happens – just lets is happen and then tries to explore the possibilities.
These are intriguing roads to travel upon, and while I won’t reveal what and with whom these explorations involve, Doremus’ fairy tale approach with it all strips it of the more challenging ethical and moral weight it tries hard to get us thinking about. When a creation, who has only recently discovered that it is – firmly believing it is human – sees another disassembled, it feels like a moment that should really strike but like so much of the film, is left more lilting in this synth-heavy dreamscape where nothing is really in focus.
What’s perhaps most interesting about the film though is the relationship between a creation and a human, one ripe with potential as they seek out and fumble over boundaries that define what they are both emotionally and physically, including sex, which these creations can not only partake in, but are so lifelike in the act, fall in love themselves. Thus, Zoe becomes just that, a disjointed love story rather than a work of science fiction, which isn’t entirely off putting but somewhat unsatisfying.
Seydoux is very good, as is James, who both offer sensitive and intimate portrayals that give a lot of weight to the experience, though the film just doesn’t seem confident enough in its own premise to seize on these possibilities, rather dipping into long protracted moments of melodrama that tend to slow the whole thing down. So many questions lie all over Zoe, which really has too many plates spinning, and once again, while I’m all in favor of filmmakers stepping off the path, as an experiment, there’s enough here to peak some curiosity, but as a night at the movies, comes with a hesitate recommendation.