Ex Machina

In Ex Machina, Caleb (Gleeson) is an impressionable computer programmer sequestered to his mega rich genius boss Nathan’s (Isaac) remote Alaskan palace/bunker/laboratory to test the efficiency of his new, allegedly self-aware robot, Ava (Vikander). As Ava and Caleb bond in a number of one-to-one sessions and Nathan’s (initially pretty bloody odd anyway) behaviour becomes increasingly sinister, their dynamics – and the moral, philosophical and scientific implications of those dynamics – become more and more foggy. There’s no little hint of Kubrick and Hitchcockian paranoia to Alex Garland’s debut as writer-director, a nifty, quasi-Gothic three-hander of great performances and unerring control.

From 28 Days Later, via Sunshine, to his adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go (with which this shares the most DNA, or circuit boards), sci-fi and horror as prism for the human condition and societal ills is prominent in Garland’s work as a screenwriter, so he’s on solid ground here thematically. And he’s created wonderful characters, aided by the terrific cast. Caleb could so easily have slipped into sad-sack, über geek stereotype, but he's much more complex – and charming – than that, while Isaac (again showing great range in a role that couldn’t be farther removed from his role in A Most Violent Year, also released this week) is brilliant as the hard-drinking, enigmatic, tough yet pathetic Nathan.

But Vikander’s Ava is the centrepiece, and she brings the perfect combination of naïvety and steel to the literal and figurative boy's toy, struggling with notions of self and yearning for knowledge. It’s a tremendously subtle, affecting performance that suggests big things to come from the increasingly ubiquitous Swede, and promotes the strong and very welcome feminist edge in an already whip-smart, blackly comic existentialist thriller. Though it could perhaps do with a more palpable menace to complement the sense of unease, Ex Machina is overall a fine first stab at calling the shots from Mr Garland.