Right from the pulsing black-and-white visuals of its opening, and the title credits’ kaleidoscopic flurry of lurid imagery, it’s clear that Divinity‘s ambitions are bold and boldly weird. Filtering pulpy sci-fi aesthetic and dystopian themes through experimental surrealistic retro-futurism, Eddie Alcazar’s sci-fi home-invasion nightmare is an arresting, provocative feast of ideas, sights and vibes even if the overall journey doesn’t quite stick the landing.
The opening scenes quickly establish the film’s dying future; dying not from disease or war, but from vanity, as a scientist’s hubris (well portrayed by Scott Bakula) develops a serum that can grant immortality only for his son (Stephen Dorff) to take control and turn the creation into a mass-market windfall. When Divinity starts, Earth and humanity are well on their way towards extinction, since it turns out that the cost of immortality is infertility. Dorff’s magnate heir Jaxxon Pierce is equal parts garish used cars salesman in his product commercials (a touch of Verhoeven-esque satire through various in-universe ads) and carnal mad scientist in the bed. Alcazar drops us into a corner of this vain apocalypse and its fallen god-tycoon, following two brothers (Jason Genao and Moises Arias) as they kidnap Jaxxon and hook him up to an excessive supply of his own creation. Dorff is especially effective in a role that demands narcissistic smarm and a descent into animalistic madness while spending most of the runtime tied to a chair. Other factions intersect with their plan, including Karrueche Tran’s sex worker and Bella Thorne’s lady cult figurehead Ziva, but if all of that sounds convoluted, rest assured that Divinity exists much more on the wavelength of bizarro cinematic freakout than on that of traditional narrative.
Tonally straddling home invasion thrills, phantasmagoric art piece and WTF midnight movie, Divinity’s monochromatic madness never proceeds more than a few minutes before another gonzo swerve or striking surreal visual overwhelms the screen. For the genre diehards, the most surprisingly apt parallels would be found amid the abrasive techno-horror sensation of Japanese cyberpunk: specifically the likes of Tetsuo: The Iron Man, Rubber’s Lover, and Electric Dragon 80.000 V. The influences of the first two films can be felt in Divinity’s bulging-muscle black-blood body horror and oppressive mansion spaces where clunky machinery looms; the incongruous latter influence emerges when Alcazar injects the final act of his provocative sci-fi saga with a dose of kinetic anime-inspired action. That climactic clash doubles as a moment of wild fist-pumping whiplash and a jaw-droppingly fluid display of stop-motion animation.
Divinity escalates energetically (albeit messily) from isolated kidnapped menace and hubristic comeuppance to a cosmic and allegorical onslaught of visuals, action and theme that transcend plot logic. Its final moments will certainly prove divisive in regards to whether Alcazar’s array of symbolism coalesces successfully, yet one would be hard-pressed to deny that his direction and imagination achieves an arresting intrigue. Equally eccentric sci-fi arthouse and bleak dystopian headtrip, Divinity is one of the most uniquely fresh cinematic experiences of the year.
Photo courtesy of Utopia
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