Sequence Break (FrightFest 2017)
Gareth Jones
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Starring Chase Williamson, Fabienne Therese, Lyle Kanouse, John Dinan
Directed by Graham Skipper
Talented but painfully introverted technician Oz (Williamson) spends most of his time fixing up busted arcade machines at his place of work: a retro cabinet outlet owned by the kindly and affable Jerry (Kanouse). Modern gaming habits being what they are, however, Jerry is forced to reveal to Oz that they will soon be going out of business and offers him 50% of the stock sell-off as reward for his dedication and hard work.
Perching in the local bar to ponder his future, Oz gets into a conversation with Tess (Therese), a young woman who had earlier visited the arcade store so she could spend some time playing retro games whilst posing as a potential buyer. Finding affinity in their love for games, the two quickly strike up a romantic entanglement – just as an anonymous vagrant (Dinan) leaves a mystery circuit board on the floor of Jerry’s shop.
Ever curious, Oz hooks the board up and is soon absorbed – mentally and physically – by the hypnotic new game. In scenes reminiscent of some of David Cronenberg’s most overt body horror, Oz moves progressively deeper into the game’s clutches, his fingers sinking sexually into the buttons as the joystick swells and secretes in his hand, none-too-subtle white goop pictured running down the cabinet’s internal circuit board.
With further exposure, Oz’s waking life becomes affected by vivid hallucinations and physical decline, meanwhile the aforementioned vagrant turns up to yell warnings – demanding that Oz be the one to finally defeat the game. Whatever that means.
Whilst its influences are worn on its sleeve and it offers plenty of endearing videogame culture nostalgia, alongside a wondrous adherence to ’80s visuals, Sequence Break’s narrative fails to truly engage. It wouldn’t be fair to lay the blame on the cast – Williamson is earnest in his portrayal of the sheepish, love-struck Oz, whilst Therese is achingly likeable as Tess. Rather, director Skipper becomes so intent on generating a mind-bending visual feast that he soon loses sight of why exactly the audience should care about eating it.
The love story between Oz and Tess is charming enough – if somewhat saccharine and idealistic – and the overall theme of the film is easy to decipher (Oz is forced to choose between being absorbed by the damaging, but pleasurable, false reality of the game or saving his real-world relationship), but as proceedings move on and the slime and button-fingering get gooier and deeper, the stakes don’t feel like they increase in tandem – something that reveals a distinct lack of tension in Sequence Break’s narrative.
An alternate reality/timeline concept feels half baked in execution, and the “rescue from the underworld” finale fails to sufficiently lay out just what kind of metaphorical underworld we might be talking about. The rather quick and simplistic resolution leaves much to be desired in the sense of a climax, also, as Oz overcomes his connection to the infernal machine with little obvious effort.
This leaves the payoff feeling all too convenient, limp, and dramatically unsatisfying – such that Sequence Break ultimately lacks impact beyond the marvellously gooey practical effects (one particular face-melting shot is the stuff of instant legend). So whilst the overt homage to Cronenberg’s Videodrome is certainly appreciated, it would be a struggle to justify why you shouldn’t just go and enjoy that far superior film instead.
Nice try, but there’s no high score here.
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Film
Categorized:Reviews
