![]() ![]() (The UV hatches are the only remotely inventive or even mildly interesting thing here. The disaster drama here is all anonymous figures in hazmat suits dragging sick people off to quarantine camps, and UV-sterilizing hatches through which one receives one’s deliveries of essentials from the outside world. To hunker down at home streaming this junk - or, worse, to venture out to cinema, as one is able to do in some areas of the UK even as a newly mutated variant of Sars-CoV-2 runs rampant - is a kind of self-flagellation the likes of which none of us needs right now. ![]() Instead we have an appalling, outright stupid melange of insipid disaster drama and implausible romance with a dash of dystopian satire thrown in, because who needs things like consistent tone? The CV of writer (with Simon Boyes) and director Adam Mason is comprised mostly of cheap schlock horror movies, and that’s the realm in which Songbird foully squats, seemingly little more than a crass cash-in meant to prey on our anxieties, not explore them. “Which one of you brought the receipt for Mrs Buttle’s husband?”Īlas, such generosity would require some evidence of reflection and self-awareness up on the screen, some hint of a grappling with the mess of emotion this year has brought us. A form of creative cinematic catastrophizing, as it were. This is, after all, a movie set in the year 2024, when COVID-19 has mutated into the far more contagious and far more lethal COVID-23, and the planet is in its fourth year of lockdown. ![]() If I wanted to be generous, I might imagine that rushing a movie such as Songbird from conception to release in a matter of months was an attempt on the part of its creators to manage their fears and anxieties about the viral pandemic we have all been enduring over this period of time. ![]()
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