A few strange and ethereal days in the “life” of a robot who drives the misty streets of Scotland and preys on men. Our predator machine takes the form of a painfully beautiful Scarlett Johansson here (her face fetching and unfeeling like Garbo’s and the camera fixates on it), so it’s real easy for her to get what she needs.
Why is she doing this? (And should I even be referring to the robot as “she”?)
The movie’s a blank slate on that matter. It drops a few clues, but they’re the kind that raise more questions than they answer—and the answers don’t matter. Make up your own. Your theory is right and so is the next guy’s. The meat of the matter is how does this make you feel? Me, nervous and titillated and fascinated by all of that. Scarlett Johansson gets very, very naked here, but it feels like I’m the one who’s vulnerable. This is a two-hour film that stays in your head for days. The moment it was over, I wanted it see it again.
It’s been awhile since science fiction in film disturbed and confounded people. Maybe the world changes too fast these days for that sort of thing. This film though hearkens back to the old days of freaky films that dare the audience to walk out. Even its music score is a dissonant attack on your nervous system. Seeing the movie is only half of the experience. The other half is talking about it afterwards.