Drop

 

Director Christopher Landon

Michael Landon with his son Christopher

director on the set with actress Meghann Fahey

DROP             C                                                                                                                        USA  Ireland  (95 mi)  2025  ‘Scope  d: Christopher Landon

A modern technology horror thriller, a whodunit for the digital age meshed together with the awkwardness of the bad date genre, mostly taking place at a single location while playing out in real time, it takes advantage of some latest technology that never existed before, developing a peculiar story around this specific product, the file-sharing system AirDrop, a phenomenon introduced by Apple on their iPhones and iPads in 2013, a feature that allows you to share photos, videos, and files with other nearby iPhone users (within 30 feet) without any fuss, with no Internet connection needed, though Bluetooth is required, but if the settings are not adjusted to just your own contacts, unsolicited strangers can also gain access.  In this case, that is exactly what the villain is relying upon, hacking into an unsuspecting woman’s system like a virus, literally taking over her life in unexpected ways, all revolving around heavily abusive control issues, exploring how invasive technology can be weaponized, reminiscent of “the call is coming from inside the house” horror scenarios, where she unwittingly sets a trap for herself and then can’t find a way out.  In 2024 it was revealed that Chinese hackers had been obtaining access to supposedly private and protected information on people’s iPhones via the AirDrop service for years (Apple AirDrop leaks user data like a sieve. Chinese ...).  In the tradition of Fred Walton’s WHEN A STRANGER CALLS (1976), Joel Schumacher’s PHONE BOOTH (2002), Wes Craven’s RED EYE (2005), Jaume Collet-Serra’s more recent CARRY-ON (2024), also his earlier films NON-STOP (2014) and THE COMMUTER (2018), or even as early as Anatole Litvak’s SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (1948), these films create tension around mysterious, threatening phone messages to build suspense.  In the event people are curiously interested with their phones and the outlandish things they can do, this film may carry some weight, but for those who find phone technology the bane of our existence, as our obsession with staring at phones has destroyed our social mores and the cultural fabric of our nation, as evidenced by the re-election of a President whose populism is a dangerous sham, something right out of Frank Capra’s MEET JOHN DOE (1941), where that wouldn’t have happened without our narcissistic obsession with phones and social media (Is Technology Really Ruining Teens' Lives? - The New Yorker), this film is a complete waste of time, as it’s little more than a technology-gone-wrong fantasy, perhaps best exemplified by one of the most creatively inventive, Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), as opposed to the more middle of the road, Joseph Kosinski’s TRON: Legacy in 3D at IMAX (2010), which this more closely resembles.  Written by Jillian Jacobs and Chris Roach, produced by Michael Bay, whose films tend to be pretentiously over-the-top, while directed by Christopher Landon (son of TV star Michael Landon), a specialist of mixing genres, who was a writer of one of the gay-themed episodes of BOYS LIFE 3 (2000), co-writer on D.J. Caruso’s DISTURBIA (2007), a Hitchcock REAR WINDOW-inspired crime thriller before directing a series of forgettable horror comedies, actually opting out of SCREAM 7 before making this film.  Some may find an interesting dynamic developing with one character completely caught down the rabbit hole of a horror thriller while the other is stuck in the bad date genre, edited in a choppy manner, with quick cuts, feeling overly contrived and nonsensical, yet they’re both attempting, mostly unsuccessfully, to cross that divide.     

At the center of the picture is Violet (Meghann Fahey from the anthology TV series The White Lotus, 2022 Season Two), a widow whose relationship with her abusive husband opens the movie in a shockingly violent way, a punishingly violent confrontation between a bloodied and dazed Violet and her agitated husband Blake (Michael Shea), where we never learn the source of his anger, but we do learn this is a flashback that ends badly.  Scenes of this play out early and again late in the picture, revisiting the scene with additional context, where it actually sets the stage for what follows.  But Violet has turned her life around, as she now counsels fellow domestic abuse survivors, and is about to go on her first date since the death of her husband, something she’s obviously very nervous about, having a hard time picking out the right outfit to wear, where her younger sister Jen (Violett Beane), who’s there to babysit her young bespectacled son Toby (Jacob Robinson), urges her to go with a plunging neckline, suggesting getting laid could be the answer to all her problems.  Given the gnarly images of the earlier abuse, one suspects we’re in real trouble when this is the kind of glib advice given.  After months of texting on a dating app, she has hesitantly agreed to finally meet a professional photographer, Henry (Brandon Sklenar), for dinner at a lavishly upscale penthouse Chicago restaurant at the top of a skyscraper with floor to ceiling windows, sitting at a window table overlooking the illuminated city below.  The luxuriousness is almost too perfect for words, as it just exudes exclusivity, created by production designer Susie Cullen in Ireland’s Ardmore Studios just outside Dublin, displaying an opulence that exists only in the movies, the kind of place ordinary people never see.  While sitting at the bar waiting for Henry to arrive, Violet meets another nervous man on a blind date, Richard (Reed Diamond), and offers him some encouragement.  When they’re finally seated, Henry is charming and relaxed, Drop Movie Clip - Henry Arrives (2025) YouTube (1:06), showing extreme patience and understanding when she continually frets with her phone and makes repeated exits to the ladies room, as she starts to receive creepy AirDrop messages that she initially ignores, but they steadily grow more menacing.  Richard is familiar with the technology, believing you have to be within 50 feet to generate the messages, so he helpfully looks around for possible suspects, but finds no one that stands out, Drop Exclusive Movie Clip - We Can Figure This Out (2025) YouTube (47 seconds).  However, the evening immediately takes a sharp turn for the worse when the persistent pest tells Violet to check her home security cameras, where she spots a masked intruder with a gun, receiving instructions that if she tells anyone what’s going on, or refuses to comply with what she’s ordered to do, her son and sister will die, Drop (2025) 4K - There's A Killer in Your House | Movieclips YouTube (3:44).  That is the premise for the film, as she’s caught between trying to have a good time on a date and having the worst night of her life, spending most of the date away from the table, which is bugged, as is the entire restaurant, where the nightmarish instructions only grow more threatening and controlling, forcing her to do something evil, testing the limits of how far one is willing to go, and whether murder is on the list.    

The unpleasantness has only begun, growing weirder and more twisted as things start spiraling out of control, with Violet drawn into this cruel variation on Michael Haneke’s Funny Games (1997), where the key is accentuating the same isolated helplessness she felt from domestic abuse, the same male toxic behavior that is sadistically punishing, as she’s experienced being the victim before, with suspense shrewdly built by concealing the identity of the perpetrator.  The chaotic disorientation she feels while on a date is undercut even further by being humiliated by the awkwardness of the circumstances, as she’s surrounded by the picture of lavish extravagance that turns into claustrophobic confinement, where she’s threatened beyond belief, but can’t escape, and can’t tell anyone, though Henry, who remains a perfect gentleman throughout, suspects something is up by how easily distracted she is by the phone, which is constantly interrupting their evening.  As she looks around the room, nearly all are glued to their phones, as any number of people come into play, all of whom raise suspicions, from the weirdly off-putting yet eager and energetic waiter Matt (Jeffery Self), the circumspect hostess (Sarah McCormack), the benevolent bartender Cara (Gabrielle Ryan), the in-house lounge pianist Phil (Ed Weeks), the handsome young man who claims to be waiting for his sister (Travis Nelson), a group of high school kids out on prom night, to the bumbling older man nervous about his blind date (Fiona Browne), who unexpectedly walks out on their date, leaving him with a few choice words.  The constant interruptions may leave a few exasperated viewers, as we’re continually jolted into sinister territory that grows increasingly preposterous, becoming more luridly threatening, Drop (2025) 4K - Kill Your Date! | Movieclips YouTube (4:29).  The problem is there’s very little self-reflection in this film, which means it’s all surface level, which typically doesn’t carry films very far unless it’s an action adventure, which this isn’t until the last few minutes, instead the drama is carried by a continual stream of phone messaging, where watching a woman’s incessant texting, with the words flashing onscreen, is not exactly a picture of excitement, as no one yet has found a way to make texting cinematic, but it feeds into the short attention span of audiences today, with everything spoonfed to you at length so that nothing is left open to interpretation.  While it does reflect the modern day obsession with phones, and how frighteningly exposed that leaves us, where our safety is easily compromised, this simply isn’t anything new, with no real revelations to speak of other than the fact there are no end credits.  If it was a menacing woman behind the scenes mercilessly carrying out this kind of outlandish scheme, that might have turned some heads, as it’s something we rarely see, as psychopath-driven behavior is typically male.  The excitement level is little more than standard fare, Drop (2025) 4K - Mommy vs. Child Killer | Movieclips YouTube (4:39), where watching the pummeling of a woman by a man is not exactly what you sign up for at the movies, but carries an age-old tradition of misogynist behavior, where men are typically the bullies on the block.  While domestic violence is conveniently interwoven into the narrative, the movie never addresses this in any substantial way, as opposed to Miia Tervo’s Finnish film 2024 Top Ten List #10 The Missile (Ohjus), for instance, which makes a deep and long-lasting impression, leaving viewers with an emptiness afterwards that just doesn’t sit right.  

Alphaville

ALPHAVILLE                      A                    

aka:  Alphaville, une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution

France  (100 mi)  1965  d:  Jean-Luc Godard

And because I love you everything moves--
One need only advance to live, to go
Straight forward towards all that you love
I was going towards you
I was moving perpetually into the light

―Paul Éluard

Sometimes reality is too complex for oral communication.  But legend embodies it in a form which enables it to spread all over the world.

―Alpha 60 opening the film

Science fiction film noir, creating an eerie atmosphere where form is the content and technology destroys the essence of what is human, the prototype of many stylized films that have followed.  Shot in black and white almost entirely at night by Raoul Coutard, the film perfectly encapsulates the subterranean feel, a decade ahead of the paranoid conspiracy thrillers of the 70’s in America, complete with sleek, super modern exteriors that reveal an architectural affinity for glass reflections, creating a futuristic, apocalyptic world reminiscent of Mike Hammer in Robert Aldrich’s Kiss Me Deadly (1955), particularly the low down and dirty aspect, where behind every door is a sinister presence, someone out to take your life, as people are constantly eliminated to eradicate rebellion and disobedience, creating a worker state completely beholden to a super authority, which is little more than a massive computer, like the HAL 9000 computer in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968).  In this advanced technological universe, a perfectly programmed robot is the ideal life form, as it flawlessly obeys what it’s programmed to do.  It’s incapable of thinking for itself, as it’s not human and doesn’t have a human conscience, which can establish the difference between what’s wrong and what’s right.  The limitations of technology are obvious, as the body count of those put to death for authoritative disobedience continually rises in a futile search for perfection, or allegiance, like an ethnic cleansing, with absolutely no remorse shown afterwards, but we don’t live in a completely rational world, nor would we choose to, yet that’s the ideal portrayed by the authoritative state that assumes power through absolute control, eliminating anything that disagrees.  It’s an absurd portrait of a false utopia, where nearly everything that matters is forbidden, and anyone showing signs of emotion or memory are viewed as damaged goods that must be eliminated.  Using no constructed sets or special effects, Godard creates a futuristic world in the cold manner in which this is filmed, using a gun-toting, trenchcoat-wearing 40’s style gangster prototype in a fedora as the hero, like a creature out of time, yet his mission is similar to that of Martin Sheen in Coppola’s APOCALYPSE NOW (1979), sent into the heart of darkness to eliminate the high command that is deemed too dangerous and unstable to continue in a position of authority, having elevated his status to that of a god, with legions of followers carrying out his every request, subject to death if they refuse.  In this case, it’s a mad scientist on the loose in command of his network of computers that have all but eliminated free will. 

At the time Godard associated modernization in France with the government’s conservative push for more absolute control, which President de Gaulle sought with his new constitutional amendment in 1962 consolodating executive power, hoping to ride a wave of popularity, which Godard associated with the robotization of the French people, where commerce and technology were emphasized over human values.  Godard’s faith in the values of love, culture, and individual liberty over the dehumanizing effects of the modern world forms the thematic crux of the film, which he viewed as a fight for humanity.  Godard was actually proven right, as a year after the film was released the government censored many New Wave films, including most famously Jacques Rivette’s THE NUN (LA RELIGIEUSE) in March of 1966 before its first public screening, reportedly because of its cynical views of the Catholic Church, allowing an exception to premiere at the 1966 Cannes Film Festival where it was received to great acclaim, yet even a mention of the ban was banned from television reporting, with Godard writing a stinging denunciation of de Gaulle’s minister of culture André Malraux for his cowardice in allowing this to happen, describing the censorship as the “Gestapo of the spirit,” lifting the ban after more than a year in September 1967.  This was followed by the ministry of culture (still presided over by Malraux) removing Henri Langlois from the Cinémathèque Française in March of 1968, an icon and cultural fixture in the preservation of film, resulting in the cancellation of the prestigious Cannes Film Festival that year in protest, with filmmakers around the world like Akira Kurosawa, Alfred Hitchcock, Orson Welles, and Fritz Lang sending telegrams in support, leading to the infamous Parisian riots of ’68, including Godard and Truffaut on the front lines, with French police seen beating students and artists alike.  In April 1968, 75 days after Langlois was ousted, he was reinstated as head of the Cinémathèque.  By that time Godard had already embarked on a new career of political activism.

Eddie Constantine plays secret agent Lemmy Caution, riding into the heart of Alphaville in his white Ford Mustang that he calls a Ford Galaxy, assuming the name of Ivan Johnson, posing as a journalist in town to cover a convention, continually snapping flash pictures, which seem to startle the locals who do not have a high opinion of journalists, as their existence is counterproductive to the will of the authority to control residents by forbidding free access to information.  This is a repressed state interested in programmed mind control, not free thinking, where Lemmy represents an ancient tradition from the “Outlands” that has all but been outlawed in Alphaville.  The initial sign of the hotel hospitality is to provide a programmed robotic “seductress” to keep him occupied (Christa Lang, who married American director Sam Fuller a few years later), who caters to his every whim, even providing sleep sedatives, though in typical tough guy, Bogart style, this will never do, as he’s perfectly capable of choosing his own girls, finding her a distraction and throwing her out.  But she’s soon replaced by another one, none other than Ana Karina as Natacha von Braun, daughter of Alphaville’s authoritative leader, Professor von Braun (Howard Vernon), the creator of the Alpha 60 supercomputer, the man he’s been assigned to capture or eliminate, almost always seen wearing a lab doctor’s smock and dark glasses, leading a contingency of scientists (otherwise known as Professors Heckell and Jeckell, amusingly played by two Cahiers critics) through a labyrinth of computer rooms and empty corridors, interrogating subjects by the minute, many left dazed and crawling the walls afterwards.  Natacha sparks Lemmy’s interest immediately, not just because of her family name, hoping she can lead him to her father, but she exhibits a quality unlike the rest, retaining human habits and characteristics, showing signs of vulnerability, though she’s obviously been trained exactly like the others, finding a strange attraction to Lemmy as well, as he speaks his own mind and demonstrates a stalwart resistance to authority, believing he’s the last of a dying breed, still capable of imparting wisdom, making him someone to pay attention to.  Karina stands out as a revelation in this mass of uniformity, as her female charms are on full display, providing warmth in this arctic blast of frigid air, becoming adorable throughout (often shot in extreme close-up), even as she plays a mixed-up and confused “seductress” who’s been programmed to forget, yet still remembers words and phrases that have been outlawed, including the barest outlines of personal memories―in other words she still shows signs of being human.  The film drags a bit when she’s not in the picture, allowing Lemmy to get lost in this myriad of drab corporate offices, getting interrogated by the robotic voice of Alpha 60, the lead authority in Alphaville, who wonders what his actual intentions are, believing he’s hiding his true identity and does not conform to their ultimate mission, which of course is an absolute and unhindered totalitarian control where computers run the world. 

Like Antonioni’s RED DESERT (1964), the film concerns itself with alienation and the threat of dehumanization in a technological society, using an exaggeration of Paris in the present as a kind of science fiction depiction of the future, but really it’s only Lemmy Caution who is out of time, a product of the past, seemingly immune to the adverse effects of computerization and the accompanying indoctrination that removes all human instincts, as his life includes love and poetry, with constant references to literature, all of which provide a foundation for what is essentially the unanswered existential question, wondering why we exist, a question that’s been asked for centuries.  In Alphaville, however, “One should never say why; but only because,” believing there is a logical explanation for everything, creating a mathematically precise universe where everything makes sense, eliminating all irrational thought, effectively becoming a police state, rounding up all dissidents and outlaws who violate the rules, where men are killed at a ratio of fifty to every one woman executed, condemning them to die in an unusual ceremony at a swimming pool, all lined up along the deep end, shooting them in unison by machine-gun fire as they fall into the water, with mermaid-like girls in the pool collecting the remains in an Esther Williams style Hollywood tribute, yet they’re armed with knives to finish off any survivors, while specially invited bored guests politely applaud.  Easily as memorable an execution style as any in memory, this grisly ordeal provides graphic evidence of how this society devalues human life, yet only the invited few ever get a chance to see it, headed by Professor von Braun himself (a reference to World War II German rocket scientist Wernher Von Braun), who explains that they are being executed for “behaving illogically” (One man was observed crying after his wife’s death), providing ample reason to rebel against the state.  Alphaville is making strides to become a super intelligence, advancing far beyond the norm, but at what cost, with Lemmy Caution resolutely declaring, “I refuse to become what you call normal.”  The film opens with a flickering white light turning off and on, with an overdramatic musical theme by Paul Misraki that sets up the suspense, allowing the perfect entrance for Lemmy, lighting his cigarette in the car that allows his face to appear, a recognizable icon in France at the time, already appearing in half a dozen different films as a private detective under the recurring character’s name of Lemmy Caution, a popular role that made him a star, with that weather-beaten look of a gangster, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other, developing a reputation as a charming womanizer.  Here he’s the only one in town who seems to sense any impending danger, finding himself at risk under interrogation, but he coolly and calmly speaks in metaphors, not really answering direct questions, leaving the computer to search for any cryptic meaning. 

At the outset, Caution comes across a billboard designed to keep the population in tow, marked by direct imperatives, “ALPHAVILLE:  SILENCE. LOGIC. SECURITY. PRUDENCE,” a coercive reminder of what is deemed “correct” behavior within the city.  Sometime later he comes across a book that is viewed as subversive, likely banned as well, Capitale de La Douleur (The Capital Of Sorrow, 1926), perhaps the best-known book of poetry by Paul Éluard, one of the founders of the French Surrealist movement launched in the 1920’s, with the title seemingly standing for the gloomy town of Alphaville.  Natacha, in particular, finds the book fascinating, as it uses words she can barely recall that have been outlawed, where she no longer understands their meaning, words like tenderness, consciousness, love, and why.  Each hotel room is provided with a Bible, which is little more than a dictionary of acceptable words, continually updated, suggesting the embrace of technology results in an alteration of the way of thinking, distorting memories, making individuals forget large portions of their personal identity.  Yet when Alpha 60 asks Caution what illuminates the night, he responds, “la poésie (poetry).”  Among the more intriguing scenes is a suggestion of lovemaking, never really showing any signs of sexual activity, yet Natacha spends the night, filled with poetic description that she rapturously speaks aloud.

Your voice, your eyes, your hands, your lips.  Our silences, our words.  Light that goes, light that returns.  A single smile between us.  In quest of knowledge, I watched the night create day while we seemed unchanged.  O beloved of all, beloved of one alone, your mouth silently promised to be happy.  Away, away, says hate; closer, closer, says love.  A caress leads us from our infancy.  Increasingly I see the human form as a lover’s dialogue.  The heart has but one mouth.  Everything by chance.  All words without thought.  Sentiments adrift.  Men roam the city.  A glance, a word.  Because I love you.  Everything moves.  We must advance to live.  Aim straight ahead toward those you love.  I went toward you, endlessly toward the light.  If you smile, it enfolds me all the better.  The rays of your arms pierce the mist.

 

This is accompanied by unique hand and face gestures, blending both faces into the same shot, using a choreography of movement that resembles another film that had yet to be made, Ingmar Bergman’s PERSONA (1966), released the following year, also including a long monologue spoken by Bibi Andersson, yet both are distinguished by a blending of two distinct personalities merging into one, forging a completely new identity, beautifully realized simply by the way they are photographed.  This sequence has a way of intensely connecting Natacha to Lemmy, actually shedding a tear when he is arrested, a startling realization, as she begins to see how she’s transforming back to being human again.  This film, however, is not without moments of humor.  A young Jean-Pierre Léaud, famous for working with Truffaut, now appears in a Godard film, making an uncredited cameo as the hotel clerk who brings breakfast to Lemmy and Natacha.  When asked why he carries a gun, Lemmy responds “I’m too old for discussions―I shoot first.”  Yet perhaps the most subtle use of humor occurs in the darkened hallways of the central offices of Alphaville, when suddenly the florescent lights turn on, alighting the entire hallway, when a voice can be heard remarking “Ah, dawn is breaking.”  While the plot is silly, and the grand finale never in doubt, much of this film’s charm is simply the look of the film, with Godard accentuating modernity in existing Parisian structures, including a vast industrial network of office buildings, neon signs, shots of electricity towers, dual glass elevators in the hotel, featuring a marble lobby, elegant winding staircases, and buildings shot in total darkness illuminated only by the lit windows, yet creating a shadowy darkness that pervades throughout the film, exhibiting signs of German Expressionism, including dramatic contrasts in neon and total blackness, where Alphaville is perceived as a city of darkness, a gloomy, claustrophobic world, beautifully contrasting darkness and light, even incorporating this into the poetic themes on the elusive nature of love and freedom.  Borrowing heavily from Jean Cocteau’s depiction of the darkened underworld in ORPHEUS (1950), including an open acknowledgment in the humanizing power of poetry, Lemmy’s rescue of Natacha from the dark city is reminiscent of Orpheus rescuing Eurydice from the hellish depths below, similarly instructing her not to look back as he liberates her from the dead, bringing her back to the land of the living, recalling the memory of something long forgotten, anticipating the climax of Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982).