Matrix Requiem
The interview room is cold when Detective Egbert enters. Just the way he likes it. It keeps his suspects on edge as they have to keep fidgeting for warmth. He drops his manila folder on the desk across from the interviewee.
‘Mr. Wachowski, at last. We’ve had our eye on you for some time now.’
‘Call me Lana.’
‘No, I don’t think I will. Do you know why you’re here today.’
Wachowski look up at Egbert through multicolored hair tips. He remains silent.
‘You’re here for crimes against film-making. Now, the wrap-sheet is long but the law has turned a blind eye to you. Until now. We simply can not allow you to continue making movies after The Matrix Resurrections.’
‘I did what I had to. The muse brooks no dissent.’
‘Ah, yes, the muse. How convenient. Whatever you think caused you to act out like this doesn’t matter. I still have questions.’
‘I want my phone call.’
‘Tell me, Mr. Wachowski, what use is a phone call if you’re unable to speak?’
Wachowski’s eyes widen in horror and his hands go to his mouth. After a few seconds he realizes that it is still there, not welded shut my magic.
‘Oh man, I’ve always wanted to say that. I do need you to answer a few things. For example, how did they manage to build fucking Io in a few decades? How did all the humans move? Is Trinity the One now? What the fucking shit is this new Morpheus? Explain it to me right fucking now.’
Egbert pants. That had escalated quickly.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. The main question I want answered is this: why did you remake The Matrix, but gayer?’
‘What do you mean, this is a completely new movie.’
‘This is a dream of a dream you came up with to process your own childhood trauma. Don’t worry, we’re hunting down David Mitchell to bring him in for questioning too. We’ll determine who’s more at fault in time. He at least should know better.
Egbert pauses and takes out a cigarette. It’s menthol, filtered, and delicious. He lights it and takes a long drag. He chuckles.
‘This abomination of a film is to the original movie like a drag woman is to a real female. If you know what I mean. Tell me, why is it so meta? Why are there so many self-references? Do you know how far up its own ass it is? It’s the human centipede of movies. I know, I know, that’s the trend these days. Everything is a reboot or a sequel. And that’s fine. But consider Top Gun: Maverick. A true sequel that improves on the original while still maintaining enough nods and winks for the fans. Hell, even the love interest is an effective use of the first movie. The dog fights are just better, more technical, but it maintains the 80s charm. Your film, on the other hand, somehow copies the first one beat-for-beat and makes it worse. The opening scene is the same, but tacky and confusing. The pacing is horrendous because you don’t have the mystery and awe of the original and so you have to rush every plot point. You even use the goddamn same song at the end, just with a female fucking singer. People thought The Force Awakens was a crime - and it is, don’t get me wrong - but if Abrams is serving time, then you’re going away for life.’
Wachowski blinks.
‘Is that all you’ve got?’
‘Oh no, not even close. This films spits on its fans. Do you know how many times the characters say something along the lines of there being no choice? A complete repudiation of the first movie, of any deep philosophy. You make the choice between the red and blue pills arbitrary. You removed all the grounding of the first films too. Now people can just walk through doors and teleport anywhere? Now the engineers can be in the Matrix? None of the new rules make the movie feel real any more. Conflict, tension, gone. What’s more, you invoke woke. What was that gay fuck reference to rainbows at the end? And the whole Analyst spiel about feelings over facts? You need to touch grass, but unfortunately where you’re going there’s only concrete.’
‘Even if you can hold me to all this, at least it wasn’t a Jurassic World: Dominion.’
Egbert stubs out his cigarette on the sheets in front of him.
‘You do have a point. At least in your work the actors seem to be having fun. I don’t know how. Even your action scenes are somehow boring. That whole café scene was like a fan trying to re-write the glory of the lobby scene, only, well, it’s in a fucking café. Oh wow, you jammed a fucking swarm of SWAT and cops into one room, badass. Then it just becomes a zombie movie. Are you fucking kidding me? Digital fucking zombies. But don’t worry, they’re called a swarm, so it’s different.’
‘Are you done?’
‘You haven’t answered any of my questions. So I’m going to leave now, let you think. I have to interview Bill Murray for his Ghostbusters shenanigans.’
Egbert stands quickly, the chair scraping behind him loudly.
‘Your brother was smart to wash his hands of this debacle. Probably the smartest thing he ever did. Maybe he’ll come visit you.’
With that the detective turns and leaves, closing the door with a click.