Broadcast Signal Intrusion

One of my favorite books is Illuminatus!, by Robert Anton Wilson & Robert Shea. The book, published in the 70’s, uses the anti-government paranoia stirred up by Watergate and the assassinations of so many political figures in the 60’s as a way to introduce a bunch of crazy conspiracy theories as part of the plot. The trick of the book is that it never connects all of the dots on any of them. Just when you think you’re starting to see the picture resolve itself, something else is brought in — new information, a new point of view, a competing theory, disputing evidence, an unreliable narrator — that reframes everything again and again and again. The intentional end result is to lull the reader into the same paranoia and distrust that the characters are experiencing. It’s a divisive storytelling trick, and not one they pioneered (Joyce uses a floating narrative and conflicting POV’s in some of his work, and Pynchon does as well), but for the right kind of person, it can be effective. Some will find it cheap and unfulfilling that the fiction in introducing threads to purposefully leave them unfinished. Some just want a story to be straight forward, no ambiguity. Those aren’t wrong opinions at all. But they’re opinions I don’t share. The whole purpose of art and fiction is to make you feel something. We cry when Beth dies in Little Women because of the life she never got to live; we pump our fists in triumph when Marty hits the cable at 88mph; we feel a sense of dread when Freddy steps into the light for the first time. Art is meant to provoke a feeling. Why can’t that feeling be that things aren’t adding up? That not all mysteries can be solved? Life doesn’t resolve itself and provide closure 100% of the time. Why can’t a movie? That’s where Broadcast Signal Intrusion comes in. James — who lost his wife three years before in mysterious and unresolved circumstances and has not gotten over it at all — falls down a rabbit hole when he discovers video of a hacking of a TV broadcast signal. This leads him to what he believes is a grand conspiracy and a possible answer to the disappearance of his wife. The movie introduces a lot of threads and competing ideas. Not all of them go somewhere. Not all of them resolve; some of them just lead further down the hole, and some never get answered. Are the tapes and the disappearances of three women connected? Is there a conspiracy trying to get him off the trail? Is there a conspiracy of people trying to keep him ON the trial? We know James is vexed by his wife’s unsolved disappearance; he has one of those corkboard-and-string maps of clues that have been memed to death, so we know he’s prone to flights of fantasy. Is this another? Is it a way of avoiding the grief that has consumed him, a way of making it make sense because the other option — the realistic option, that life is random and stupid and can come to an end in a blink and sometimes you’ll get no answers — is just too much to bear? The movie isn’t interested in resolving all those questions. The madness, the journey, one man’s quest to apply a version of order to a chaotic system — a form of order that is even more chaotic — is the point. If you want to apply your own answers to certain scenes, you certainly can do that; if you want to rail against the unresolved narrative threads, you can also do that. But I don’t think either is the point; it’s meant to be unsettling. It’s meant to tug at the corners and always stay just out of focus. And in that regard, it does that and does it well. For those who are still interested, it should be noted this movie wears its inspirations on its sleeve in such an obvious way, one might say it lacks its own identity because of it. There are elements of Hitchcock and Fincher all throughout. Touches of neo-noir. The real-life Max Headroom signal intrusion is obviously a reference point, as are internet creepypastas. Do all of these blend together 100% of the time? No, I’d be lying if I said so. The noir elements are weird (especially the moments of brass-heavy score) and just not integrated well. I do love the Hitchcockian camera shots and angles used, and I love the gritty, harsh touches of Fincher, but they are an odd mix that don’t always come together. Overall, it would be nice if the movie had its own identity, although if you’re gonna crib notes off someone else’s paper, there’s few better. Narratively, there are also some times where jumps are made and the movie has no interest in showing you how it got from A to B. This isn’t a mysterious element issue so much as it’s just itching to get to the next beat a little more than it should. In the end, I admit this movie isn’t for everyone. Either you like this kind of storytelling or you don’t, and this definitely isn’t the movie to change your kind on it. But if you do like being kept off balance and don’t mind not having everything explained, it’s a solid addition to that category.