Jay Rohr
Obex revels in a surreal look at isolation. This top layer of a curious fairytale opens up to a certain degree of depth. Though spelunking through themes may only reveal a finite space, its unique stylization oddly explores the infinite expanse of imagination. That gives the movie a curious quality wherein Obex is about everything lost and found in the immensity of fantasy juxtaposed against the deceptive peace of seclusion.
The film follows Conor Marsh, played by writer-director Albert Birney. He’s a young fellow with a talent for computer art, who lives alone with his dog Sandy. While perusing a computer magazine, Conor notices an ad for a game called Obex. It promises that players can be incorporated into the game using cutting edge technology. Initially disappointed by what appears to be a ripoff, Conor soon slips into the reality of a dangerous game.
Obex is essentially what would happen if David Lynch got asked to adapt The Legend of Zelda. The character Link, in this case, becoming a mildly agoraphobic computer nerd, and the quest is to save Sandy the dog rather than Princess Zelda. What’s amazing is how well this works.
Technically, Obex isn’t so much a tale of heroism as it is someone discovering the limits of a life that isn’t being lived. Conor dwells in surreal seclusion, plagued by the perpetual drone and intrusion of the 17-year cicadas. The film seems to take place circa 1987, well before the internet virtually expanded such isolation. However, there’s a case to be made that Conor is also trapped in the past, intentionally surrounded by antiquated technology.
There’s an ambiguity to his situation that I feel leaves room for speculation about certain circumstances. Obex offers just enough details to explain aspects of Conor without delving in so much he gets set in concrete. What matters most, though, comes across through storytelling; simply watching him go about his day reveals all a viewer needs to comprehend a lonely existence gnawing on the main character’s mind.
That sense of simmering madness, or perhaps dreamlike disconnect comes courtesy of a quirky stylization. Obex looks low-fi on purpose. This feeds into the atmospheric aspect of Conor’s colorless reality as well as conveying certain cinematic notions. The way the movie looks generates a murky dreamlike quality reminiscent of flicks like Eraserhead, while being suggestive of tube TVs and antiquated computer programs. Such visual choices are part of the film’s charm, not to mention its most interesting aspects.
The slow burning narrative crawls towards self-realization rather than action adventure. As such, anyone expecting a film about someone living a video game may be disappointed. Conor’s quest is more of a spiritual journey than a swashbuckling adventure. At risk of spoilers, the events of the film leave room to doubt what’s happening. Unlike Dave Made a Maze (2017), which similarly tackled isolation and the immensity of escapist imagination, there’s no definite confirmation of the fantasy adventure aspect of what happens in Obex. It’s entirely possible for one viewer to feel he’s literally entered the game, while another might suppose with equal validity, everything only occurs in Conor’s mind.
Part of the fun with such films is watching them to see where audiences land, and the discussions which occur afterward. That isn’t to suggest people may develop a cult like devotion, picking apart every scene for details to prove their point of view, but Obex allows for a blurring of the line between fantasy and reality. The quirky charm of such a story reminded me of Little Jar (2022), a similar interesting take on loneliness, especially how the isolated detach from reality.
The cast is minimal. Still, they’re used to maximum effect. Callie Hernandez (Alien: Covenant) plays Mary, the only human being Conor seems to interact with directly. At first, nothing more than a voice through a closed door, she’s able to express all the emotion necessary to get the sense of a caring individual worried in her own way about the main character. When her role shifts to events in the game, Hernandez marvelously conveys both Conor’s friend and a legit NPC. Meanwhile, Frank Mosely (Freeland) gives an anthropomorphized television a certain degree of personality.
Albert Birney has been behind the lens before with imaginative features such as Strawberry Mansion (2021). Obex maintains the comfort with surrealism expressed in his previous films. The movie has an intentional style wonderfully feeding into the feeling the filmmaker wants the audience to experience. However, the writer-director’s pacing combines with certain lost opportunities to shave a few points off the picture. Obex doesn’t necessarily waste any time, but it does take the entire first half before diving into truly weird territory which often feels like pitches for ideas rather than full use of concepts.
When the film eventually transitions into the full video game immersion, there are some great shots alongside clever low-fi, budget conscious visual effects. However, many of these moments feel like a tease. Instead of venturing deeper into the unreal potential of the video game, Obex hints at possibilities never fully realized on screen. Too often there’s a sense of something really interesting the audience never gets to see or doesn’t get enough of.
Still, the overall experience doesn’t is never a slog. Obex has enough charm alongside interesting imagery to keep an audience satisfied for the roughly hour and a half runtime. There’s just one or two points where it feels safe to skip to the kitchen for a swift refill.
Obex is a charming film full of Lynchian elements. Its unique visual stylization is effective as well as engaging. The metaphorical surreal narrative may not satisfy those hoping for a more action-oriented movie, but there’s plenty of other flicks to fit such tastes. This is a quiet exploration of isolation and imagination. While the pacing in certain small portions could be quicker, what Obex teases is often tempting. If you’re a fan of surreal arthouse features who’s nostalgic for antiquated computer games — press play.
