MELBOURNE UNIVERSITY FILM INQUIRER

I remember Dad owning a BlackBerry much later than most men did, even though its significance as a male status symbol was well known to him. When the rest of the world had already moved on, probably because he was stuck in his way of doing things, and probably because he was painfully frugal, he was still using it. He didn’t make the switch to an iPhone until 2012. Once he did, however, there was no need to keep his clicky black beetle around. I assume it ended up rotting in an e-waste landfill with all the other forgotten flip and keyboard phones. Around the same time my Dad was tossing his old BlackBerry away, Mike Lazaridis stepped down as CEO of Research In Motion (the phone’s company), and as he did, his brainchild went from a household name, to being ‘that piece of junk’ in household drawers.

Director Matt Johnson captures this explosive blip in time perfectly, supplying a literal ‘in your face’ style of filmmaking to the tech biopic. A pumping electronic score, larger than life performances, and flashy archival footage of old school Linux terminals and the Oprah audience losing their minds over a blue piece of plastic – all culminates in a low budget feature pulsing with over-the-top energy.

If you’re not new to the information presented in a biopic or the tropes of the biopic, it can be a struggle to retain one’s interest. After all, if you know all the ups and downs – all the twists and betrayals – how are you supposed to get excited? But Johnson, like a DJ playing Cloud 9 at four in the morning, knows how to remix all the old favourites, fact and fiction, to get you moshing on the dance floor. I already knew about Lazaridis leaving his prototype in the taxi right before his first investment meeting. Nevertheless, seeing the moment heightened to a comedic ‘Oh, shit’ moment was priceless.

But how does one shoot for a Social Network killer with only an eighth of the budget (5 million USD)? You go lo-fi. You get one of the most underrated TV actors of this generation to act alongside Seth Rogen’s best friend Jay. And if you must get them in grey wigs and a bald cap for these two titan thespians to perform alongside each other, so be it. Glenn Howerton (Always Sunny in Philadelphia) was born to play the conniving business magnate Jim Balsillie as he claws his way into the lives of “PocketLink” co-creators Mike (played to meek perfection thanks to Jay Baruchel) and Doug Fregin (portrayed by Johnson himself); eventually taking the pair to new heights. With supporting help from The Princess Bride’s Cary Elwes and, excitingly, SungWon Cho (known online as ProZD), the film shapes itself up to be the Oppenheimer of cult stars.

The costume and prop department had their work cut out for them bringing such vibrant characters to life. Not only did they have to present a rags to riches metaphor in the actors’ outfits, they also had to showcase the passing fads in style and technology, the film’s chronology spanning from 1996 all the way up until 2008. I really enjoyed the smaller details, like Howerton dropping the suspenders and his tie slimming with age. Speaking of slimming, Matt Johnson seemed to physically transform as his character Doug, becoming fitter as he matures, while Baruchel, as a spiralling Mike, becomes more haggard and goes from a spry, grey-haired, nervy Bill Gates to a malnourished attempt at a silver-fox. These contrasting transformations are difficult to get right, even on sets with a much larger budget. Therefore, to see it done on such a masterful level is awe inspiring. Johnson’s crew should be applauded for their efforts and aspiring indie filmmakers should be taking note.

The film’s strong visual language can be attributed to Johnson’s appreciation for the great directors of the 80s. Several of the film’s shots are stylised after the likes of Spielberg and Carpenter – something it doesn’t shy away from considering both Raiders of the Lost Ark and They Live are screened respectively during the ‘movie nights’ Doug puts on throughout. The two films are noteworthy inclusions for their thematic relevance too, as one posits the dangers of ambition and greed in both the pursuit of knowledge and fortune, while the other is a scathing critique of consumer culture and advocates for the true power in having control of one’s own fate. Greed fuels Jim to push Mike to greater heights with his invention, whilst BlackBerry’s constant reinvention, intended to offer more to its consumer, is what ultimately leads to its downfall. When it comes time to choose between the BlackBerry Bold’s trackpad and the iPhone’s fancy new touch screen, the winner seems obvious in hindsight.

As Mike and RIM slowly lose their humanity, the frame slowly moves further and further away from the characters, culminating in a final wide shot of Mike in one of the many warehouses of imported phones, fixing their defective hiss. Something he derided the same Chinese manufacturers for in the past. This framing of the warehouse distinctly resembles the Ark’s final resting place in Raiders. These second rate phones, like the Ark, are similarly buried as forbidden objects in the end: found where no one will find them.

BlackBerry is a tech biopic that, much like the phone that preceded it, should be celebrated for its ingenuity and frugal filmmaking. Johnson makes real life into a roller coaster, one pulsating with a sincerity that makes it more than generic theme park fodder. And it’s a ride I never wanted to get off.

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BlackBerry recently screened at the Melbourne International Film Festival and can be seen in cinemas now. Interested in writing a review of anything in exchange for a free ticket? Just fill out this form or send us an email at unimelbfilmsoc@gmail.com.