“Waking Life” and “Fast Food Nation” writer Richard Linklater is more strung out than ever with his newest release, “A Scanner Darkly;” a stop-motion animation flick inspired by a drug-subjected screenplay adapted from the novel by Philip K. Dick (you may remember he wrote the book on which Ridley Scott’s critically acclaimed “Blade Runner” was based).
Unfortunately, “A Scanner Darkly” sacrifices plot comprehension
for quirky paranoia rants and junkie jokes.
Linklater’s use of fascinating filmography launches the audience into the world of a future hallucinogenic drug addict. The ever-changing characteristics of the neo-cartoon figures are reminiscent of Japanese anime on American LSD. Truthfully, the costumes, scenes and overall feel of the film can not be justly displayed in any other style. For instance, Dick’s novel explains a holographic police suit that hides the identity of the wearer by constantly changing holographic personality images to the exterior world.
What? Exactly. Try making a “scramble suit” look seriously realistic in real-time filming, James Cameron. It won’t happen. Yet, while stunningly sensational to the eye, the use of this aggravating animation adds even more diffusion between the audience and the actual plot of the film. It only becomes justly apparent to the viewer who has read the science-fiction abstractions of Philip K. Dick.
The beauty of this film lies not only in its animation, but its acting. Ex-stoner joker Keanu Reeves plays Robert Arctor; a vague personality who seems to live two different lives, one as a top secret drug enforcement agent and another as an addict and dealer of the very drug his latter persona tries to defeat. Dark, hypnotic, and oddly original, Reeves spends most of the film imitating a confused junkie, not able to acknowledge the difference between reality and his paranoia-infused hallucinations.
At times the characters are hard to follow, as well as the timeline. The movie appears to move forward according to which of Reeves’ personas is filmed, creating greater entanglement between visual spectacles, witty jokes, and non-linear story lines.
But Robert Downey Jr. and Woody Harrelson add life and humanity to the film as eccentric drug addicts and the burdening buddies of Reeves’ character. Whenever the film becomes too abstract or lost in its own prophetic plot lines, Harrelson and Downey manage to save the moment with their hilarious and ecstatic rants about bicycle gears, government conspiracies, and personal espionage. Endless arguments without conclusion or rationality, constant contradicting conversations and slapstick “stoner” humor bring light and realism to this dark, severed and overly developed plot. These characters explain the mindset of the film: lost, tripped out, and drugged up. Their ceaseless comic comments and absurdity only aids Philip K. Dick’s much-used conflict between the real and the imagined, the conscious and the subconscious.
Ironically however, Downey and Harrelson’s humor are almost the downfall of the film. Linklater seems to recognize the human connection brought to viewers through these characters, and thus, overplays their roles throughout the entire film. The problem is that Linklater leaves almost no room for plot explanation until the last thirty minutes of the film. As a viewer, it’s like watching Kevin Smith’s infamous Jay & Silent Bob characters crack junkie jokes for an hour, then being asked to watch the conclusion of “Spun” or “Altered States” without any prior knowledge of what has taken place.
Overall, Linklater has created an almost appealing artistic work by bringing the brilliant and original mind of Philip K. Dick to a visual medium. While any fan of this author will most likely understand and value the movie on a first-seen status, an unfamiliar audience can easily be left behind with the vague and twisted conclusion. Afterward everyone is left with an incredible philosophical inquiry: Is this realistic? Or just one long, drug-induced trip? Go see the movie and figure it
out yourself.