The day begins as any other for the workers at the Belko Industries office building. It's a sizeable structure in a remote location in Bogota, Colombia, and its many inhabitants mill about like stylish worker ants, busily doing something but allowing themselves plenty of time for interpersonal drama. Suddenly a voice speaks over the intercom, informing the 80 workers present that a few among them must die or many will be killed. When metal walls seal up the windows and doors, the victims seek any means to escape, but as time ticks on, more lives are taken.
Nihilistic and bleak, The Belko Experiment is a sort of critique of extreme capitalism, showing us the commodification of human life and the brutal ways we use our peers in competition. As the stakes are raised for the employees, we see the classist structures of the company break down much like the many dead or dying bodies. Most moral mores are gone or proven immaterial; it's a vicious microcosm wherein anyone can die and anyone can kill. Initially we root for those who value human life, who hide instead of fight, who seek order over chaos. It doesn't take long for our sympathies to switch.
That might be a stretch. My sympathies never really switched in this movie, they just fluttered away. While a worthwhile premise and intriguing theme for a horror-thriller, the film repeatedly fails to be horrific or thrilling. Sure, it has its jump scares and a few particularly nasty gore-porn shots, but beyond those its effect is similar to that of the first Purge movie: After a promising setup, it focuses too much on a sentimental core to be truly chilling, and by the time it's over, you realize how much you were cheated. Thankfully, the Purge franchise has gotten infinitely better.
But I'm not sure we need another Belko. Greg McLean, the director of brilliant horror movies Rogue and Wolf Creek, and writer James Gunn seemed a bit overwhelmed with this project. It suffers from whiplash pacing, incoherent themes, bizarre editing, and from taking itself too damn seriously. Perhaps it was meant to be deeply serious -- moments do feel claustrophobic, and its fatalistic outlook is far from entertaining -- but then why are parts so outlandish and funny? Perhaps it should have taken its cue from similarly-themed films such as High-Rise or Snowpiercer, beautiful films which both tackle class warfare in enclosed spaces and both effectively balance horror, action, and aesthetic style. Or, on the other hand, perhaps it should have taken a self-aware leaf from Scream or even You're Next. It might have melded better with the film's more grotesque elements, such as the implanted tracking device in each employee's skull that doubles as a fatal explosive.
Overthought, overwrought violence is at once less visceral and more icky than it should be. Lurid shots of fun sparsely infiltrate a film populated by flat and boring characters. Stylized carnage suggests subversive intent until you realize there is none. What should be a conceptual masterpiece of apocalyptic horror -- corporate banality torn asunder by hyperviolent minions -- quickly becomes a rote exercise in invention-less sadism. And then there's that ending that tries to be profound but succeeds only in showing that the movie knows it failed and hopes a ridiculous sequel can save it.
IMDb: The Belko Experiment
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