HARD on the heels of Substance comes another film about an obscure Los Angeles experimental clinic and showbiz obsession—only this medical outfit, Somney, is a snobby mind-fixing operation à la Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Wannabe actor Gemma (Chloë Levine) lands a job as a “sleep-sitter” at the firm, observing patients in pods who hope to improve their lives with helpful dreams injected into their subconscious. Already hard at work with a listening scheme, it seems she doesn’t need this kind of help, but flashes of the idyllic relationship she’s been immersed in in Georgia hint at a gnawing inner wound.
Attractive as its gritty sci-fi premise makes it, Racheal Cain’s debut feature still feels like it was directly imprinted with too many second-hand pop culture memorabilia: some of the eroding eternal sunshine relationships here, the mysterious producer Sventali (Johnathon Schaeh). Even one of the main performances feels derivative: is Peltz as Noah, Gemma’s creepy, aviator-spec colleague, Xeroxes Cillian Murphy’s super-dislike.
All of these elements feel like cartoonish cutscenes; aside from the vague dreamscape markings, none of them feel like they’re heading anywhere purposefully. The Hollywood and somnia plots are finally forced into a room together, as Noah lures Gemma’s therapy pots as much as the troglodyte lurker she sees everywhere. But even her mind seems intent on selling her character short: the humiliation after Chatshow feels like a terrible fantasy (the 2020 film comes off as much more memorable and exhilarating as far as low-budget dreamscapes go).
Levine is consistently adept at playing Gemma’s spirited desperation; if only Cain didn’t show a similar lack of confidence in stakeouting his territory for the film. One might think it’s bent on a dream factory, but Somney just feels tired.
