Superhero cinema is now so popular that every so often, its representatives surprise us with original costuming choices. In iBoy, a film made for the Netflix platform, we meet a new, young vigilante who, like his comic book counterparts, fights against the injustices surrounding him. His supernatural powers, which are meant to help him fix the world, stem from the fusion of his brain with the capabilities of cutting-edge telecommunication technologies.
The superhero costume presented by director Adam Randall is designed to look as believable as possible and evoke associations with the contemporary media culture we’re all part of. It’s just a pity that such unimaginative materials were used to craft it—sewn together with thread visibly thick to the point of distraction. But let’s start from the beginning.
Tom (played by Ben Milner) is a young outcast harboring a crush on a classmate (played by Game of Thrones star Maisie Williams). One night, she is attacked by masked assailants, and Tom tries to intervene. Unfortunately, one of the attackers has a gun—and doesn’t hesitate to use it. When Tom wakes up from a coma caused by a gunshot to the side of the head, he notices that his sight and hearing are behaving differently than usual. As it turns out, fragments of a smartphone embedded in his skull have allowed him to connect—literally—to the network. He now has access to the entire internet, can eavesdrop on phone calls, and everything appears directly in front of his eyes without the need for external devices—which must be a dream come true for augmented reality developers. Tom decides to use these powers to take down a gang terrorizing his local community.
Admit it—the idea that a teenager gains superpowers through (accidental!) fusion with a smartphone sounds a bit ridiculous. It’s more like something jotted down by a bored teen in the back of a notebook during a dull school lesson than a serious, even partially science-based vision. Surprisingly, the story is actually based on a novel of the same name by Kevin Brooks. I suspect that despite its scientific implausibility, the filmmakers were more focused on sparking the imagination in terms of augmented reality’s potential—a technology that is becoming increasingly present in our daily lives (thanks in part to smartphone apps). We may not yet be able to perceive it without external devices, but I’d bet dollars to donuts that such an invention is only a matter of time.
The far-fetched premise isn’t the film’s only issue. iBoy suffers from numerous minor narrative flaws which, while likely unnoticed by the teenage audience the film is clearly targeting, may seriously irk more discerning viewers. A prime example is the so-called superhero origin moment—when the protagonist realizes he has superpowers and what he can do with them. It seems obvious—at least to me—that after waking from a coma and experiencing strange visions and sounds (as a result of being “connected”), the character would probably pass out again from shock. But in iBoy, this transition is unsettlingly swift and unremarkable.
There’s more of this kind of thing in the film—and I might have made a bigger fuss over it, if not for the fact that, first, the premise itself already suggests the film functions within a simplified logic that becomes apparent within the first few minutes. And second, to compensate and divert attention from its script shortcomings, two aspects help make the experience more enjoyable: charismatic actors and an electronic soundtrack that matches the film’s tech-centric atmosphere. Regarding the former, I personally appreciated that the young cast didn’t irritate me—which is already saying a lot. It’s a shame, though, that Rory Kinnear, who plays the villain, had so little screen time. The seasoned British actor delivered a well-measured performance, conveying evil and cunning without resorting to caricature.
Despite its innovative sheen, iBoy is a bit like an old mobile phone we’ve grown used to over the years—simple, lacking many functions, with its flaws, but familiar and kind of pleasant to use because we know what to expect.
Somewhat unexpectedly, Adam Randall’s film prompted a bitter reflection in me. Watching Tom—lost in the world of new media—I couldn’t help but feel deep sympathy for today’s teenagers. A generation hypnotized from birth by screens—phones, computers, and TVs—flashing directly into their eyes. A generation for whom handwriting is obsolete, and whose use of their native language often boils down to thoughtless abbreviations and emoticons for text messages. A generation that belongs to a society that is completely atomized, celebrating individualism while pushing away any sense of community or direct contact. And finally, a generation that, despite forging its own paths, willingly trades away its privacy for the sake of messengers, blogs, and other tools of social validation and approval.
Had I been born into such a world, I suspect I, too, like Tom, would be an outcast in it.
