Well, I can't say I was misled by the poster art. Blood Machines is everything it promised to be: a deep, dark splash of tripped-out outer-space mayhem, bold and loud and dirty like an after-hours Cinemax special with a huge, dedicated VFX team. It's a total sensory delight, no matter how poorly-acted and incomprehensible the story might be.
Music is a huge part of what makes this whole show operate, which is no surprise since it's a spiritual (if not literal) sequel to a music video from the same artist, director and production house. Carpenter Brut isn't a household name, but his particular brand of darkwave synth caught my ear a few years ago and that's what ultimately drew me to this film. The entire visual approach hinges on that style, adapting his grungy, sinister, 80s-influenced sound into a perfectly-paired series of distressed, threatening, neon-hued scenes and settings. Occasionally, it overexerts in the pursuit of deliberately edgy material (tons of T&A and blasphemous imagery in this one), but as it's already a pastiche of styles from an era where such envelope-pushing was common, if not actively encouraged, that seems appropriate. Distracting and snicker-inducing, sure, but also fitting.
I couldn't tell you much about the plot. It seems intentionally ambiguous, merely a vehicle to shift our perspective from one complex piece of shifting, shining, shaking computer-generated havoc to the next. The dialogue and acting are also afterthoughts, and overlooking those can be a bit trickier. Those seeking a thick dose of pure indulgence need look no further: Blood Machines is a conceptual marvel, an overfilled cup of fresh ideas and dramatic execution. Maybe if you're high enough, the other stuff won't matter.
