Obex Review: A Surreal Lynchian Tribute to Retro Gaming
If David Lynch had been born two decades later and developed a deep fascination with 1980s home-computing technology, he might have crafted a film like Obex. This black-and-white analogue surrealism, infused with hints of dot-matrix horror, is the brainchild of director and star Albert Birney. In this endearingly imaginative fantasy, Birney portrays "Computer Conor," a reclusive individual who earns a living by skillfully creating ASCII reproductions of people's favourite photographs. During his downtime, he immerses himself in a stack of three televisions, simultaneously watching multiple VHS tapes.
A World of Unsettling Intrusions
Outside Conor's isolated existence lies Mary, played by Callie Hernandez, an unseen grocery-delivery girl, and the disturbing biological world represented by an emerging cicada brood. However, Conor's invasion comes from within when he subscribes to Obex, a mail-order sword-and-sorcery video game that allows players to personalise their own avatars. Initially disappointed, his curiosity deepens when his printer spontaneously outputs a cryptic command: "Remove your skin." Soon after, the game's radiant demon, Ixaroth, materialises in his apartment and abducts Conor's beloved dog, Sandy.
From Eraserhead to Zelda-esque Adventure
The first half of Obex bears a striking resemblance to Eraserhead, featuring a tightly wound protagonist navigating his personal microverse. Birney amplifies the intensity through unconventional shot choices, deliberately sluggish pacing, and an atonal sound design and score provided by Animal Collective founder Josh Dibb. Yet, once Conor dons a Zelda-style cap and ventures through the portal, the film transforms. It becomes a live-action homage to classic role-playing games, with Mary reimagined as a power-up vendor, blending elements of a silent-movie picaresque reminiscent of Guy Maddin's work.
Creative Flair and Narrative Limits
While Obex is lovingly conceived and enjoyable, some may argue it primarily serves as fan service at the altar of retro nostalgia. Despite the grotesque imagery of the bug invasion, Birney does not fully capture the torrent of molten surrealism and ambiguity characteristic of Lynch's films. Instead, he resolves the quest along more conventional lines, framing it as a direct transposition of Conor's childhood issues and a cautionary tale about escaping into virtual realities. Nonetheless, shot with remarkable DIY inventiveness and gusto, this 8-bit junkyard will captivate both seasoned enthusiasts and gen-Z nostalgians alike. Obex is available on digital platforms from 9 March.
