Open A Eye gives a glimpse into a dystopian future full of emotional detachment

Thirty-two years ago, The Eurythmics, with its lead singer Annie Lennox, released a hit song called “Here Comes the Rain Again.” I doubt anyone will celebrate the song’s anniversary like they do the release of movies today (i.e., Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Jaws, Jurassic Park—the first and only good one), but like many of the group’s songs, this one was really good! You should listen to it sometime. In it, Annie Lennox beckons a lover to talk to her, walk with her, and kiss her “like lovers do.” The Grammy award winning vocalist sings about what most if not all humans want and frankly need: affection, connection, and closeness to other human beings. In David Ash’s series, Open A Eye, he introduces us to characters craving this but struggling to come close to touching what they need.

The six-part series opens with thirty-something Jodie (Bethany Ford Binkley), a U.S. television news reporter sitting in her bed clothes in a home office so small it appears to have been refashioned from a closet. Except for the light from her computer monitor in front of her, the room has little illumination. Looking sad, she types into a chatbot on her screen that responds positively to every question she enters about herself, and it repeatedly refers to her as “My love” as if its own existence depends on using the moniker for her. It begs and pleads as she tells it that it’s not working for her and then deletes it. When Jodi’s husband, Alex (Matt Bailey), enters the office, their brief but strained exchange paints the picture of an unhappy marriage. Seeming unsure of what to do next, she peers at a redlined copy of a thick manuscript on the table to her left.

Alex is a thirty-something talented but unemployed video editor and aspiring filmmaker whose home office is similar to his wife’s in terms of look, feel, dimensions, and sadly, misery. So desperate is he to reconnect with Jodi emotionally that he creates a video on his phone that expresses his love and longing for her. Pleased with himself, he smiles widely as he presses send on his phone—a smile that turns to confusion and frustration when the phone shows that the message failed.

Centered in the series are Ryan (Barret O’Brien) and Jodi—yes, Alex’s wife. The pair like each other and frequently engage in deep, philosophical conversations while sharing a bath, learning about each other’s time as youths, or sitting at a coffeehouse on the campus of the University of Vienna, one of Jodi’s favorite places. Jodi and Ryan just met, however, and much of the series consists of them getting to know one another.

In addition to being smitten by Ryan’s good looks, Jodi is inquisitive about his life. Her curiosity and journalism training lead her to ask deep, burrowing questions and hang onto his every word. In response, Ryan tells her what he was like in his twenties: that he started an indie rock band, that his mother died from a serious illness, and that she was abusive. His father, he says nonchalantly as he tilts his head and smiles, “Papa was a rolling stone.” At one point during these long and intimate talks, Ryan draws close to Jodi, so close the two almost kiss but fall just shy of doing so.

At one point in the show, Jodi, being ever attracted to Ryan, insists he make love to her by describing what he would do. Surprised by the demand, Ryan fumbles as if searching a digital catalog for information on how to make love to a woman. As Jodi applies more urgency to the situation, he searches faster but can only come up with a series of steps, which frustrates Jodi. Applying even more urgency, Jodie insists he take her to climax. 

Open A Eye moves at a deliberately slow pace, as if Dave Ash wants us not to sit in Jodi’s and Alex’s misery but to observe and ponder the consequences of such a life. One particularly mind-blowing example of this is when Alex and Jodi have a solemn and volume-controlled argument over her relationship with Ryan. Her slow retort to Alex’s complaint is that Ryan is “more a man than he will ever be.” Such a stinging rejection would be enough to send most men (and women) to a place in themselves they had never visited before. At minimum, such a hurtful comment would lead any spouse to immediately file for divorce. Alex, though, just hangs on to hope as if he is so desperate that his life depends on being in partnership with Jodi.

Another example of the filmmaker’s desire for us to think about such a life is the various off-ramps the series provides, as if he knows this is pretty heavy stuff. Ash’s sense of humor regarding Alex’s difficulty sending the video to Jodi and the abrupt way Jodi flushes the AI chat that continually referred to her as “My love” pulls us out of the doldrums of their marriage. Another is when Alex watches a clip from the movie he is producing, where a man and woman walk through a park. The scene is a stark contrast from Jodi’s and Alex’s offices because it is outdoors on a bright day, with a nearby lake, greenery all around, and the sound of chirping birds. However, when the man thanks the woman for joining him and acknowledges that this was not her first choice for things to do today, she blithely responds, “It wasn’t in my top 10 if I’m being totally honest.” It is clear from her verbal and physical posture that she doesn’t want to be there with him. Not only doesn’t his expression change, but he later tells her that he loves her.

Open A Eye looks and feels dystopian, as if an AI apocalypse has occurred and George Orwell’s 1984 has quietly manifested without the violence the story and Michael Radford’s movie portends. The cinematography is dark, and most of the series occurs in the tight spaces of Jodi’s and Alex’s offices. The characters are not warm, and despite being married and living in the same home, Jodi and Alex spend much of their time away from each other in their respective offices. There is also dialog about the impending end of days. Even the outdoor scenes with natural landscapes, birds chirping, and calm waterways lack signs of social activity and make you wonder where all the people have gone. 

Concerns have been expressed about AI’s influence on a range of human life: jobs, transportation, manufacturing, critical thinking. Never have I heard concerns regarding AI’s effect on intimate relationships and marriages, that is, until I watched Open A Eye. In case you haven’t realized it, Ryan is a digital AI avatar. While it has programming that allows it to cobble and regurgitate text from extraneous sources and is able to deliver engaging stories, like those about a childhood and parents it never had, it lacks experiences unique to living creatures. Nothing makes this clearer than the avatar fumbling around for how to make love to Jodi. 

Ryan’s fumbling around for tips on being sensual reveals yet another truth about AI. While it has knowledge through its access to terabytes of information and is programmed to adapt so it cannot be flushed away, it lacks human experience and instinct. Being human is not just a matter of knowledge and habits. It is a project in nuance. Being human is also about emotion and the ability to feel joy, pain, and empathy. Jodi’s lashing out at Alex with claims that the digital AI is “more a man than he’ll ever be,” though, is an indication that these characteristics are at risk of eroding with our use of certain types of AI and the degree to which we personify them.

You may wonder why Annie Lennox entitled her song, “Here Comes the Rain Again.” In it, she describes her disappointment with her lover to give her the touch she wants as “raining in her head like a tragedy.” There are some funny moments in this series that send you falling on the floor laughing, but it is a serious matter. Are we really approaching an era where we are more comfortable engaging in intimate conversations with a digital AI avatar and even loving and respecting it more than we do actual people? Sounds like a tragedy to me.

A few years ago, I reviewed writer/director Sean Buckelew’s animated short, Drone, about a military drone that personified human emotions. A thought-provoking film with striking visual effects, Drone, though funny, gives an ominous glimpse into artificial intelligence. I noted then that AIs are being engineered to appear more human and less robotic, which is the first step toward humans feeling a kinship to them as they gradually become integrated into our world. What about the personification of digital rather than inanimate objects that by virtue of being computer-generated allow for frequent and potentially intimate interaction? This is scary stuff, because it risks snuffing out our capacity for much of what makes us uniquely human. Just three years later, along comes Dave Ash’s Open A Eye to take this concern up several notches. Worried enough yet?