Sundance Film Festival 2022: DUAL and ALICE

Whether it’s science fiction or simply a sensational real-life story, who doesn’t enjoy an inventive story? The 2022 edition of the Sundance Film Festival has no shortages of ingenious storytelling, with Riley Stearns‘ Dual and Krystin Ver Linden’s Alice being two prime examples. One is science fiction, and the other is based on real events, but both films aim to stretch our imaginations using the medium of cinema. Although one film certainly does a much better job at making use of said medium, both are valiant efforts that charm in their own way.

Dual

Packaged as an exploration of mainstream cloning in the not-so-distant future, Riley Stearns’ Dual isn’t your typical science fiction film. Taking a rather quiet approach in painting his version of a humanity that views cloning as a commodity in replacing lost souls, this is really a meditative tale about the value we place on the supposedly irreplaceable entity of one’s identity. And while Stearns doesn’t deliver a completely flawless narrative, the film is thoughtfully engaging and remains intriguing to the very end.

Set in what we can assume is a future version of Earth, the film starts off with a duel to the death between two adversaries. Robert (Theo James) ends up winning the battle, and the opponent is then revealed to be the original version of his cloned self. As it turns out, only a single version of a living being is allowed to exist at any given time. This leads to Sarah (Karen Gillan), the film’s protagonist, deciding to create a cloned version of herself after being diagnosed with an incurable disease, in hopes that this would help ease the sadness set to befall on her loved ones. But when she finds out her terminal illness is miraculously cured, her clone refuses to be put out of commission. A duel is therefore set to decide who gets to live on as the singular Sarah in existence. The original Sarah enlists the help of a local trainer, Trent (Aaron Paul) in hopes that this might provide some security for her survival.

Like The Art of Self-Defense, Stearns relishes in stagnant framing and minimizes camera movement in conveying a very specific worldview. In Dual, that worldview revolves around society’s indifference to identity, and how with technological advancement, one’s identity can be packaged and repurposed with a price. Though this might seem like a stretch in our current reality, the use of social media and virtual reality platforms is certainly expanding our definition of what constitutes someone’s complete identity. Given our increasingly de-personalized lifestyles through technology, there’s been no shortage of loss connections, and Dual steps right into this sad realization. The deadpan dialogue and placid camera work is consistent with the film’s statement on the world’s unfortunate downward spiral of personal connections, posing it as a new normal that might be on our horizons.

Gillan is perfect in delivering a performance that is both robotic and humanizing while dragging along just the right amount of comedic baggage. Her exchanges with her own cloned self are particularly apt, as is her chemistry with Paul’s character. Their relationship as teacher and student is probably the most genuine of all the characters but materializes through the same stoic fashion that inhabits the film (with the exception of one very dynamic dance sequence). This veering towards an emotionless humanity is punctuated with some surprising plot twists that forces both Sarah and her clone to confront their own deep, personal feelings. These moments, which are scattered throughout the film, ensure that the narrative remains interesting during the film’s entire duration.

While some might find Dual to be a bit too light on its science fiction lore, the film actually says a lot through its disinterest in exploring tangible details. The future being depicted is one that views human existence, and everything that comes with it, as a commodity with market value. As a result, even characters themselves seem to not question the importance of their own existence, and this is extended into Sterans’ overall narrative approach. In some ways, this feels oddly meta and serves as a surprising indictment of what society values. Dual is dark, funny, and oddly grounded in its messaging.

Alice

On paper, Krystin Ver Linden’s directorial debut, Alice, seems to boast a wildly inventive narrative that explores the traumatic history of African Americans. And to be fair, the film does deliver some emotional punches and manages to string on a certain level of intrigue that is relatively entertaining. But as a whole, it, unfortunately, doesn’t come together in a cohesive way that would’ve elevated it as a refined piece of high-concept dramatic filmmaking. Alice ends up being a perplexing effort, despite its good intentions.

Set in 19^th century Georgia, a local plantation is run by a ruthless owner named Paul (Jonny Lee Miller). Having ruminated on a potential escape from the plantation for some time, Alice (Keke Palmer) is forced to put those plans into action after a violent altercation with Paul. But as she runs deep into the forest borders, she steps out into a very different world and realizes that it’s actually 1973. She meets Frank (Common), a once vibrant activist, who helps her acclimate to a reality that was kept secret from her and everyone else within the plantation.

In terms of what works in Alice, there’s no doubt that Palmer has an electric screen presence, and is able to deliver a performance that can both break and uplift the spirit. Having already proven herself to be a highly capable actress, this particular role certainly stretches her theatrical range in an impressive manner. Miller is searing in his depiction of a monstrous being, providing little room for empathy, which works quite well here. Common also continues to put out solid work as a supporting actor, and always seems to be a dependable choice.

The film’s initial act – which does stretch on longer than it probably needed to – is quite confident in setting the stage for what’s to come. Ver Linden’s thoughtful direction depicts the inherent cruelty of the past with a level of restraint and deserves credit for always maintaining a level of intensity that never sizzles, even when the film changes its tonal course. But with that major shift in narrative focus as Alice steps into 1973, the film falters in maintaining its composure. The more serious undertones that continue to pervade the story feel muted, with the primary deceit that has plagued Alice’s very existence feeling far less impactful than it should’ve been. And as the film dives toward a more celebratory finale that pays homage to the blaxploitation subgenre, it does so without an emphatic beat. What should’ve been one of the most vindictive and emotionally charged sequences, ends up feeling oddly mediocre.

Alice might be crafted from an intriguing conceptual framework, but it’s not nearly as engaging as what one might expect. The screenplay deserves credit for using a creatively-charged lens to explore true events in history that are truly despicable, but the film itself just don’t materialize in an impactful way. It’s a bit of a missed opportunity for what could have easily been a heavy piece of genre-bending dramatic storytelling.

What are your thoughts on Dual or Alice? Let us know in the comments.