I have a hardback copy of “The Electric State” on my bookshelf. I’m a latecomer: it was published in 2017, but it’s been on my Amazon wishlist for years. I received it as a gift this Christmas. It's a beautiful book. My wife loved it too. Think Cormac McCarthy’s The Road meets Fallout. It’s a meditation on a technology apocalypse wrought by pure decadence: virtual reality has short-circuited human agency. We’ve been leveled by our Achilles Heel of dopamine addiction. People are wasting away in their headsets.
Set in an alternate 1997, Simon Stalenhag’s original text blends narrative and flashbacks. But it shines as a true graphic novel. Emphasis on lower “g” and lower “n” meaning it’s a picture book for adults:
I am especially partial to the stunning, photo-perfect renderings of the Sierra mountains along I-395 and Highway 88. It might be a masterpiece. Behold:
The images on this screen don’t compare to holding them in your hand so go get it, the deftly woven images and prose showcase a grim, disturbing, beautiful, and ambiguous world. These tonal tensions might have been why this was so hard to adapt into a movie, despite the Russo brothers efforts.
I was excited to learn about the film’s release a month after reading the book. Let’s start with what the movie gets right. There is a believable mix of GGI and practical effects. They retained the mid-90’s retrofuturist aesthetic. The robots are slick, and there is an especially good rendering of Kid Kosmo as a Hanna Barbera-esque cartoon. They often capture the pathos of the characters. Oh Yeah, Mother by Danzig is part of the soundtrack - that’s good!
I strove to give this more grace, suspend disbelief, and enjoy the ride, but when the director chose to use Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey ahead of the climactic slowdown, my heart sank into a full sense of disappointment that had been brewing as I watched. This film is an overly busy mess of artistic decisions by committee. The spartan, slow nightmare and story arc of the book somehow morphed into a frenetic motley of slop in the movie.
They add a bunch of characters. Chris Pratt plays a version of Han Solo complete with gay robot sidekick, Herm. Gus from Breaking Bad is a bounty hunter, hot on the heroes’ trail. Many more wacky robots join the fray. There’s a baseball bot, a postal service bot, and even a robot that is a mashup of Short Round and Beemo.
Mr. Peanut is a character. This is not a joke. This movie is literally presented by Planter’s Peanuts. You pay for Netflix, then have to sit through a lengthy peanut commercial. “Brought to you by Peanuts: The worst of the nuts. Peanuts: Go suck yourself.” Speaking of nuts, Stanley Tucci plays the evil tech oligarch with a God complex. He even walks on water in his simulation at one point. More on this subtle imagery later.
Hollywood Guy 1: Wow, what a great book! But you know what this needs?
Hollywood Guy 2: Star Power!
Hollywood Guy 1: One hunnit, my main man! Big Stars! It also needs even wackier robots.
Hollywood Guy 2: Wait no… gay robots! The kids love ‘em!
Hollywood Guy 1: Yessir! And the theme… hmm… a subtext on our tension with AI? How about: ‘what does it even mean to be human?’
Hollywood Guy 2: Woah dude, you’re a genius. Has anyone even asked that question before?
Here’s also something no one has ever said, “The book was better.”
Plot Summary with Spoilers and Gripes:
The protagonist, played by Milly Billy Vanilly from Stranger Things, is looking for her brother Christopher, played by Woody Norman, who was recently released from a child trafficking dungeon. Christopher’s physical body is locked away at EvilCorp’s HQ. You see, the streaming compute power for the VR world that EvilCorps sells can only be powered through his unique mind, because he’s the chosen one or some shit. I know it was the 90’s, but this movie inherently shows the flaws of relying on monolithic server architecture and having no back-ups or redundancy. Anyway, the little brother is piloting a robot remotely with his mind to accompany his sister on her quest. They journey to the robo-ghetto in the desert with Chris Pratt, team up with Mr. Peanut, Short Round, and some wacky robots, and then decide to assault the HQ of Robo-Corp in Seattle.
Rather than the muted psychodrama of the book, the movie’s quest is a Disneyfied mashup of The Wizard of Oz, The War in Gaza, and Ready Player One (which in itself was a mashup). They even sprinkle a little Jesus in (not the latino, neck-tattooed Jesuses we just deported to that concentration camp in El Salvador). That’s right, just after Techlord Tuucci literally declares himself “The Father”, Christopher “The Son”, and VR land “The Holy Spirit”, Silly Billy must unplug her brother to save the world, killing him in the process, but freeing the people from their VR prisons. Unlike Jesus, there’s no resurrection, just pure child sacrifice. Yay, Hollywood. Lately, film studios are using imagery and metaphysical artifacts that they don't understand or respect, so their use of them rings hollow.
Don’t worry, there’s a nihilistic breath mint. After the climactic battle, Chris Pratt weeps over his fallen, presumably dead, robot companion. He literally tells its corpse, “I love you more than a friend.” Then dramatically, a tiny robot copy of Herm emerges from its broken skull like a Russian nesting doll. He’s alive! A relieved and overjoyed Chris Pratt only hesitates a tender moment before gleefully shoving Herm the mini-robot up his ass.
He then looks at the camera, winks, and says, “Now that’s what I call an Electric State!”
Cut to credits: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots by The Flaming Lips. Then a sledgehammer hits you.
This was the most disappointing adaptation since Adaptation. The point of the book was rooted in anxiety about technology writ large. Hollywood’s message? “Robots are people too.” This came off weird and empty years ago in Solo (a crime against humanity) when every AWFL’s favorite hibbity jibbity Urkel was banging his chrome femboto. In The Electric State, they slapped a jarring coat of dayglo paint on a piece of art that is supposed to be melancholic. The result is perverse.
Simon, if you’re out there… First, I want to say, I’m a huge fan and it’s not your fault, man. Second, I hope they gave you a bunch of money in return for vandalizing your vision. Third, Hollywood betrayed your fans, so I hope you’ll use your money for good. Perhaps you can…
The book illustrations vividly recall fighting in the backseat with @centaurwritesatyr on the way to California.
I am super supportive of your writing and feel like I’m having a conversation with you while I’m reading it and I actually understand it 🤣