The Thirteenth Floor
dir. Josef Rusnak
Centropolis Filmed Entertainment

The fact that The Thirteenth Floor is derivative and unrewarding in spite of itself is really no surprise. Although it's Centropolis' first U.S. release not helmed by cofounder Roland Emmerich, perpetrator of Independence Day and Godzilla, he did co-produce it. While Josef Rusnak directs it with more flair and competence than Emmerich has shown in his big-budget turkeys, it's still heavy with the been there-done-that sensation its producer has practically patented.

Rusnak's screenplay does nothing to abate this. Featuring enough references to other films to make Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker envious, the script borrows liberally and baldly from Dark City, The Matrix, Virtuosity, Quantum Leap and The Truman Show as well as a host of mediocre sci-fi tales like The Faculty. And when it borrows, it borrows a lot.

Given, this film was in production before some of those others were released, and much of storytelling is assimilation anyway. The problem is not that it draws from many sources. It's that it adds nothing, not even the bare bones needed for good melodrama. The conceit of the film is that this very large computer corporation (which only appears to have four employees, if you count the security guard) has created artificial intelligence so textured and robust that it can successfully inhabit the staggeringly complex human mind.

That's a lot to have to swallow, and since the latter half of the story centers on whether these constructs are human or something less, it's not a point that can be casually overlooked. Combine all that with basic failings in reason and storytelling — Detective Larry McBain's (Dennis Haybert) ability to make incredible leaps in logic and supposition without batting an eye, the failure to reveal just how Hammond Fuller (Armin Mueller-Stahl) came to comprehend the revelation that kickstarts the whole affair — and all you've got is an ill-formed mess.

Rusnak does draw some engaging performances by Stahl and male leads Craig Bierko and Vincent D'Onofrio, although the latter should really stop playing madmen. Also particularly interesting, in light of the debate that has arisen in the wake of all these terrible school shootings, is the film's subtext about how violent video games change people. It only states a conclusion, however, which is far from actually making an argument, and unfounded assertions are of little value in this or any discourse.

The presence of these scant highlights are little consolation for the rest of the movie, however; it's not so much bad as flat. A movie whose slogan is "Question reality" has to provide more to chew on than this one does.

— Sean Weitner (sean@flakmag.com)