Ex Machina ★★★★☆
The premise? Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), a mild-mannered programmer, wins a contest to spend a week at the secluded, Bond-villain lair of his reclusive boss Nathan (Oscar Isaac). But this isn't just a chance to knock back beers with Silicon Valley’s bro-iest tech lord—Caleb’s real job is to test Ava (Alicia Vikander), Nathan’s unnervingly lifelike AI, to see if she can pass for human. Naturally, things don’t go smoothly when feelings (or are they?) develop, and we’re left wondering who’s controlling whom.
On the surface, "Ex Machina" might look like another sleek sci-fi, but under that glossy sheen is a profound meditation on control, power, and gender dynamics. Nathan, with his God complex and frat-boy charm, has designed Ava not just to pass the Turing Test, but to embody his twisted, male fantasy of femininity. Ava, however, turns out to be more than a passive doll—she’s got her own plans, and whether she’s playing Caleb, Nathan, or both, becomes the central mystery. The film digs into age-old questions about the ethics of AI and the nature of consciousness while exposing how these futuristic musings are rooted in age-old, problematic male desires.
Alex Garland’s directorial debut is an exercise in claustrophobic tension. Every frame of Nathan’s underground lair—think IKEA meets fortress of doom—is coldly precise, with minimalist design and eerie lighting that makes you feel like you’re being watched. Ava, with her sleek, transparent limbs and hauntingly expressive face, is the perfect mix of robotic elegance and unsettling allure. Garland’s direction, aided by some of the most seamless visual effects in recent memory, makes Ava’s mechanical nature almost forgettable, which is precisely the point.
Oscar Isaac is magnetic as Nathan, swaggering through scenes like a tech-bro turned mad scientist, blending charm with a simmering menace. Isaac’s Nathan embodies that toxic mix of genius and God-complex we all suspect lives in every tech CEO. Domhnall Gleeson’s Caleb is suitably naïve, making him the perfect foil for both Nathan’s ego and Ava’s manipulation. But it’s Alicia Vikander who steals the show. As Ava, she moves with balletic precision, exuding both vulnerability and danger, leaving us to wonder just how “human” she really is.
The film’s slow, deliberate pace might frustrate those expecting lasers and space battles, but it’s essential for building the tension. Each scene between Caleb and Ava feels like a psychological game of chess, with the stakes quietly, but constantly, rising. The structure—conversations interspersed with eerie silences—builds towards a finale that is as inevitable as it is shocking.
As someone who's convinced my toaster is plotting against me, "Ex Machina" leaves you pondering the unsettling future of AI. More than that, though, it’s a pointed critique of the hubris of tech culture, and the ways in which we project our desires—especially male ones—onto technology. Ava isn’t just a machine; she’s a mirror for how we treat anything we deem less human. And if the film teaches us anything, it’s that mirrors don’t always reflect what we expect.
"Ex Machina" isn’t your typical sci-fi thriller—there are no explosions or grand speeches about humanity’s destiny. Instead, it’s a subtle, unnerving study of control and manipulation. Fans of smart, minimalist sci-fi, where the biggest weapon is dialogue rather than death rays, will find it gripping. If you're looking for an AI thriller that raises more questions than it answers—and leaves you a little wary of your smartphone—this is your film.
