When Cameron (Mahershala Ali) first meets his duplicate—a genetically identical, lab-crafted doppelganger—a wave of visceral bafflement possesses him. And who wouldn’t lose composure in the presence of a three-dimensional reflection of oneself, which doesn’t only mimic you physically but will also inherit all of your memories and innermost thoughts so it can ultimately take your place after you perish?
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Such existentialist, near-future sci-fi concept doesn’t register as what we could expect from Irish writer-director Benjamin Cleary, recipient of an Oscar for his humanistic short film “Stutterer.” On close inspection, however, this intriguing and sometimes revealing debut, “Swan Song” (the second film out this year under that title) evokes the same muted yearning of that smaller story also dealing with unconventional romantic endeavors.
With terminal illness consuming his days, Cameron has to consider the offer the persistent Dr. Scott (a convincingly inflexible Glenn Close) proposes. Out of love for his wife, their son, and their child on the way, he agrees to the engendering of this replica in order to shelter them (but her mostly) from more grief. Ali reunites with “Moonlight” co-star Naomie Harris here playing his francophone spouse Poppy. Their effervescent on-screen chemistry bubbles up in the rousingly edited flashback montages that map out their sweetly ordinary relationship.
One of those remembrances shows him the precise instance when Poppy made her position on cloning clear—too much of a narratively convenient choice on Cleary’s part. “You can’t copy a human being,” Poppy says, unless it’s “indistinguishable,” she adds thinking about having her mother back with them. The operative word of the film is precisely that, “indistinguishable,” since it’s the thought that his family will never know the new model isn’t him, in essence rendering him replaceable, that troubles Cameron most.
Only a tiny mark on the palm of the copy’s hand separates the two, making the prime philosophical conflict a war between his ego-clinging to our belief that there’s something inherently unique and irreplicable about the human experience or the selfless act of remaining in his loved one’s lives in a vicarious manner. Disappointingly, given the fertile premise, Cleary stays on the outer membrane of the thought-provoking molecule of a story he conjured up. The more ethically problematic possibilities of this secretive procedure, whose legality we ignore, particularly in its aftermath, go unquestioned.
In a minuscule part, Awkwafina serves as proof of a successful outcome, but in their morbidly humorous exchanges, her character and Ali’s Cameron don’t probe at the rather incredible position they’ve found themselves in, by chance it seems. Cleary concentrates instead on the recognizable emotions and situations that shape the central marriage, the death of Poppy’s brother, and the jealousy that eats at Cameron throughout the ordeal by hammering the snippets of the past until they lose some of their poignancy.
On the world-building front, the director keeps to measured but unmistakably elements that point to a more technologically advanced reality. Sleek and minimalist spaces, resembling spaceship or perhaps an outpost of the home in “Ex-Machina,” give the isolated facilities when the transfiguration is happening a sobering aesthetic. Holographic screens, self-driving cars seemingly lifted from “Tron,” and talking AI’s make pointed appearances without detracting from the drama.
That Cleary doesn’t clutter the story detailing the production of the duplicates or the practicalities of the discoveries that enable the downloading of memories into a new body, functions as streamlining asset. But, on the other hand, this can also make one hyper-aware of how when the structure is working against the impact of its most auspicious ideas. There’s ambition galore and cohesiveness between visuals and tone, but the time does add up. A film such as “Marjorie Prime” comes to mind as an example of a thematically comparable effort with a much tighter vision.
Remarkable in a double performance, Ali acts opposite himself in roles charged with their singular grievances. For Cameron there’s bottled up rage, at the unfair randomness of existence, that spills out him in seeing the ideal imposter substitute him to perfection. He doesn’t recognize himself in the other self, thus he treats him as if he were a stranger usurping his home. With Jack (as the clone is referred to before going out into the world) the psychological struggle extends from being conscious of his condition as an artificial being with no experiences to his name. In fact, elaborating on the issue of creating a life for the selfish purpose of replacing another, without taking into account the new sentient form’s comprehension of its purpose, could have yielded fascinating observations.
Ali’s deftness to embellish each of his parts with subtle distinctions in demeanor—making them intrinsically similar, yet not the simplistically same—stuns, especially in scenes where both participate. Early on in their bizarre interactions, Jack behaves with child-like innocence and interest in bonding with his dying counterpart, but as he gains more self-assurance in who he will become next to Poppy, a fascinating rivalry emerges. To witness one of the Oscar-winning thespian’s finest acting feats is reason alone to commit to the, not at all unforgivable, but still noticeable shortcomings of “Swan Song.” [B-]