In Miguel Llansó’s latest, three young women fall under the strange spell of Dr. Mindfulness, whom they meet on a virtual reality dating app and who offers up a new and exciting possibility with his own mindfulness experience. Donning a cumbersome device on their faces, they succumb to a seemingly drug-induced erotic daydream, but something seems off about it from the beginning, and this so-called Dr. Mindfulness may not be who he says he is, and what does any of this have to do with the local zoo? Soon enough, a couple of bizarre Interpol agents show up to investigate, until it all (kinda, sorta) comes together. The intrigue suggested here, though, is hardly a propulsive concern of the film itself, which proceeds with a wandering eye and a relaxed style that can chafe as often as it lulls.
Ambiguity can be a powerful cinematic tool, or a crutch. Infinite Summer leans dangerously close to the latter case, flirting with complicated ideas about identity and transformation but refusing to engage with the severity of the consequences therein. The film feels like a fantastical addendum to the classic clip of David Lynch and Harry Dean Stanton describing the self as “nothing,” there is no self, and laughing about it knowingly. Llansó’s script dabbles in the conventions of a coming-of-age tale but with a transhumanist bent, deadpan yet sincere, a tonal mishmash that strives for profundity if somewhat aimlessly. That roaming spirit is relatable enough, for any of us seeking meaning in the doldrums of modern life.
The visual effects work make up a convincing near-future augmented reality apparatus and perspective, ultimately leading to a number of transfixing sequences as the girls reach a kind of druggy transcendence. The cast is serviceable, though only Steve Vanoni as Detective Jack, one of the Interpol agents, manages to stand out. It’s easy enough to fall under the film’s overall easy charm, but it simultaneously lacks momentum and seems disinterested in actually pulling on the threads it teases. Take, for instance, the film’s interest in wellness or mindfulness as understood by app developers and/or hucksters, which is well worth satirizing, as we are inundated with pitches for easy solutions to life’s worries through a simple subscription to the latest app promising betterness for a price. The satire, though, stays at a surface level, particularly as the film seems to eventually buy into existentialist enlightenment as a way out, regardless of the technological manipulations at hand. It can leave the viewer feeling befuddled, as though the answer to the anxieties it presents is simply acceptance. After all, if there is no self, why should it matter?
Published as part of Fantasia Fest 2024 — Dispatch 2.
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