As artificial intelligence technology develops, so too does our cultural fascination with the blurring line between human and machines. From “Her” and “Ex Machina” to “Black Mirror” and “Westworld,” AI is hot right now – literally. If we’re not thinking about how to build humanoid machines, we’re thinking about fucking them. In movies and television, these sexy bots are always female, their creators always male. Occasionally, such works complicate or criticize that dynamic (as in “Ex Machina” and “Westworld”). “Zoe,” the latest Tribeca premiere from director Drake Doremus and writer Rich Greenberg, does not. Though the film attempts to introduce a future laden with fascinating social implications, it maddeningly ignores them in favor of an overwrought, plodding, and inherently sexist romance.
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The film centers on Cole (Ewan McGregor), an engineer at the forefront of artificial intelligence. He heads up “synthetic companions” at a startup called Relationist, where modern lovers can go to determine their tech-accurate compatibility, purchase love-enhancing pharmaceuticals, and, apparently, buy sentient sex dolls (sorry, “companions”). Titular character Zoe (Léa Seydoux) —pronounced zoh, for some reason – works alongside Cole. She walks new patrons around the office, tests couples’ compatibility, and stares moonily at Cole.
Zoe takes the compatibility quiz to see if they’re a match. The film opens as Zoe, nervous and determined, bares her soul before test-taker Cole. It’s a smart place to start, steeping viewers in intimacy from go – until the narrative shoe drops. Befuddled by their 0.0% match score and desperate to unburden herself, Zoe confesses her feelings to Cole. Cole responds with an uncomfortable admission: Zoe is a synthetic, and he created her.
Having believed, unquestioningly, that she was human, Zoe must now come to grips with her fear that nothing about her life is “real.” At this point, “Zoe” should develop into an intelligent, female-centered exploration of humanity and consciousness. Instead, it gives way to an insipid romance that resists any interesting worldbuilding.
As Zoe and Cole begin a relationship, their power dynamic never comes into question. Zoe doesn’t seem to consider how creepy it is for a scientist to fall in love with his creation – if she has, she doesn’t seem to care. Likewise, Cole only regrets his role as her creator because it makes him all too aware that she is not human. Their honeymoon phase abruptly ends after an injury forces Cole to remember Zoe is only made of a credible coating and jellied innards where skin and organs should be.
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“Zoe” cares more about an idiotic love triangle and Cole’s wishy-washy feelings than it does about making any sense. Its technological logic is flimsier than an iPhone display. Zoe is favorably compared to a more “primitive” synthetic, Jules (Christina Aguilera), though both are indistinguishable from human women. Relationist has made astronomical progress at creating lifelike AI, but their matchmaking software is mostly a questionnaire read by Siri. Perhaps most egregiously, the script highlights Zoe’s lack of tear ducts – as a prototype, Cole explains, they didn’t think she needed an entirely realistic nose and eyes – but also shows her having sex. The resulting implication is that Cole, who was just too busy to give her tear ducts, instead prioritized building Zoe a functional vagina.
“Zoe” is riddled with social blunders that are ultimately even more grievous. The film refuses to problematize robot partners as a concept, although real-life sex robots have alarmed womankind since their inception. These machines, primarily marketed to men, will never say no – will never, as Cole himself points out in “Zoe” – leave their owners. It’s a horrifyingly misogynistic concept, and the film’s inability to recognize that legacy undermines any sentience or agency its titular character might have. Though Zoe apparently makes her own decisions, she has been programmed by a man, and she is ultimately unable to untangle herself romantically from that man. There is a semi-interesting synthetic brothel in the film, but the script is more interested in demonizing its be-dreadlocked madame (Miranda Otto) than its rape-fanatical patrons. “Zoe,” which features countless pairs in pursuit of relationship bliss, sports zero gay couples whatsoever — an oversight so idiotic it’s almost more hilarious than offensive.
These are not SJW nitpicks about an otherwise fine film. Its stark, modern aesthetic does little to separate itself visually from other films of its ilk. The 104-minute movie is in desperate need of pruning as it plods on; and it’s ultimately unclear whether Cole even loves Zoe, though you’re supposed to root for them as a couple. Bright spots include a suspenseful score by Dan Romer (“Beasts of the Southern Wild”) and Léa Seydoux’s nuanced, empathetic turn, but they’re not enough to rewire this malfunctioning machine.
That “Zoe” is headed for a theatrical release, and an exclusive deal with Amazon is as unbelievable as its shoddy story. Though its potential-heavy premise could have yielded true innovation, this film’s ridiculous story is as expendable as its bullshit tech. You’d be better served just watching the most sexist bits from “The Island” and calling it a day. [D+]
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