The Zero Theorem: Zero = 100%

Okay cards on the table first. Yes, Terry Gilliam's latest world of wonderful weirdness The Zero Theorem came out back in March, several weeks ago. You may also remember that it came out and screened in cinemas for about ten minutes before being shoved aside for the latest half-hearted Hunger Games/Twilight clone. But thanks to the good people at Bristol's Cube Cinema I was able to catch a screening last week, one well worth the trip to Stokes Croft.

I'm somewhat glad I was able to see this in the hindsight of Richard Ayoade's The Double because, while I mostly liked The Double, The Zero Theorem feels like the film it wants to be. A far more nuanced take on individuality built organically into the world of the film. And with a conclusion that offers a satisfying level of complexity for such a weighty subject.

The near-future of The Zero Theorem is one with an abundance of colour. Stark, neon colours carelessly plastered onto grey streets and glum people. Vibrant adverts register each member of the public, screaming offers of meaning at them yet acknowledge no one as an individual. The ostentatious aesthetics of Gilliam's world are embraced by people desperately seeking uniqueness, even if it is only an empty illusion.

The only one sharp to this is our protagonist Qohen Leth (Christoph Waltz) who despite his eccentricity and intellect knows he is not unique. He refers to himself with plural pronouns, dresses in the dreariest grey and is as bald as an unformed foetus. However despite his logical nature Qohen is a man of faith. Not religious faith, although living in a Christian Church, a monument to the original deification of the individual, suggests otherwise. Qohen has faith that a phone call is coming, not yet another cold call but one intended for him and him alone, one that will reveal his life's meaning.

Naturally then Qohen would prefer to work from home, which the shady spectre of 'Management' (Matt Damon) permits provided he can solve The Zero Theorem, a complex mathematical formula  that will determine if the universe is really for nothing. With Qohen at work it is a combination of Gilliam's absorbing direction of Waltz's frustrated performance that keep you watching. You'll be surprised how much sympathy can be wrought from watching a man fiddle with computer graphics on a screen but the aggressive anxiety of Qohen is both funny and sad. It helps of course that even the smallest prop is an oddity, adding an air of absurdity to an otherwise mundane narrative.

To break the flow of Qohen's misery comes the lascivious Bainsley (Melanie Thierry), a woman hired by Management to ease his mind via the virtual world. The chemistry between Waltz an Thierry is charming enough but it remains transparent throughout that this is an entirely artificial relationship. While Qohen is eventually willing to believe in it unfortunately we aren't. The relationship does crash in the end and it crashes hard, but had this been better built as something potentially genuine it might have resonated better with the audience.

The second interloper into Qohen's misery is Bob (Lucas Hedges), Management's teenage computer prodigy. Bob is the personification of individual potential, enormous talent with no clearly defined path even if the Orwellian Overloads are trying to pave one for him. Instead he indulges in base pleasures, lust and gluttony which eventually rubs of on Qohen. In many ways he is Qohen's opposite, seeing himself as individual while the rest of humanity is a nameless mass unworthy of the brain cells it would take to identify.

While Bainsley's influence on Qohen is intended to reinforce Qohen's worldview Bob eventually serves to break it. Forcing him to realise that his phone call is nothing but a delusion, that his life may truly be as meaningless as the universe itself. Bob's solution to the existential truth of reality is to placate himself with life's pleasures, to him his life has meaning. Managment's is entirely corporate, a business believes that nothing is for nothing as long as there is profit to be made. And for one brief moment Bainsley had found meaning in Qohen.

As Qohen's worldview and reality collapse around him it becomes clear that if existence does not matter then neither does agonising over it. The only meaning of any value to Qohen is that which he creates for himself. The film strands him in a virtual reality, or a dream it really no longer matters. But there he has control, he can create meaning, he can be one.

While there are some weaknesses to Qohen's story Gilliam's direction makes it feel like a seamless character journey. Flowing from scene to scene organically in a world which is both a visual joy and perfect reflection of the film's theme. Engaging, funny and poignant The Zero Theorem may not meet the success of it's spiritual predecessor Brazil but I feel it'll stand as one of the directors better works.

The Black Mirror is turned to talent shows in 15 Million Merits

The second part of Charlie Brooker's anthology series is a much harder beast to assess. While The National Anthem was a tighly constructed 24-esque thriller, 15 Million Merits is a more whimsical exploration of a culture driven society. The story of Bing (Daniel Kaluuya), a frustrated young man living in a world surrounded by screens, his sole distraction from the monotony of daily labour. The world of 15 Million Merits is apparently dominated by a series of exercise bikes powering a fully automated world where even a dab of toothpaste comes from the click of a button.

Booker does an excellent job of showing how this horrifying world breaks down for the average individual, from the CBBC style rooster that serves as Bing's alarm clock to the pause function that activates whenever he tries to sheild his eyes from the endless series of obnoxious adverts. In this world colour is demonised and the obese are the underclass. The only hope of escape is an X Factor style talent shot Hot Shots and its trio of judges held up as god-like figures, the only flesh and blood in a world of internet avatars (or dopplers).

Enter Abi (Jessica Brown-Findlay), a young woman with an angelic voice who approaches Amanda Seyfried levels on the Naifometer. Bing sees in her talent beauty and authenticity and immediately wants the best for her, offering up his titular merits to buy an audition on Hot Shots. This is where the story fumbles in comparison to its fast paced predecessor. It necessitates introducing Bing, exploring his world and the beginnings of this tentative romance, though a sweet romance it is. For this reason the first half hour never flows as smoothly as The National Anthem, monotony may be the point but that doesn't mean it has to be monotonous to watch.

You might recognise Daniel Kaluuya from BBC Three's supernatural drama The Fades and whatever you might think of that show Kaluuya's easily the best thing in it. Here he shows he can do a lot even when given very little, though it does help matters later when allowed more dialogue. In the first half hour he never sounds off against the constant barrage of screens or his drab work wear, like all dystopian drones he's far too comfortable but the dissatisfaction is in the performance. Knowingly awkward, hoping for better Bing carries the limb first half and downright shines in the climax.

Ah the climax, once things go tits up with Abi, finding herself in a thinly veiled Babestation parody, Bing spirals into depression and eventually righteous anger. Determined to set things right he scrimps and saves to earn a spot on Hot Shots and when he's there, with the millions watching, he sounds off against the injustice of it all. Then what happens...is probably the hardest thing assess, not because it’s not good but because it's been done before. The judges at Hot Shots find a way to package and distribute his anger in a daily broadcast, a carbon copy of the plot to the 1976 film Network. Brooker himself has commented on the film, comparing Peter Finch's descent into madness to roughly anything Glenn Beck says. In this day an age you can't call fault using the ideas of another work but it leaves bitter stain on an otherwise clever turn of fate.

Not as tight, nor as funny as The National Anthem, for all its flashy surroundings 15 Million Merits is one of the bleakest things you are likely to see this year. It's a fully fleshed out dystopian future which brilliantly reflects our modern day screen addiction but in terms of story it unfortunately comes out half-measure even if it's still the most intelligent thing on telly right now.