“A fascinating deconstruction of technology and the role it plays in our lives.”

The letter “k” does not exist in Portuguese orthography, at least in terms of the traditional conventions of the language. Yet it has gradually started to factor into the language as time has progressed and cultures have begun to influence one another. It’s a curious detail, and one that makes us wonder whether Davi Pretto had this in mind when crafting his wildly ambitious fourth directorial outing Futuro Futuro, in which his protagonist – a seemingly ordinary man trying to navigate hostile terrain – is given the name “K” by one of his companions, referring to a scar on his collarbone. This could also be a reference to Franz Kafka, whose own protagonist in The Trial was referred to only as “Josef K.”, the novella itself seemingly serving as an inspiration for this film both narratively and aesthetically. Set in the near future, the film follows K as he attempts to survive in a steadily declining arid landscape, its rules established by artificial intelligence which has almost entirely taken over society, leaving humanity as nothing more than its placid slaves, forced to exist in perpetual servitude to the kind of technological innovation we view as being the future of our species. A fascinating deconstruction of technology and the role it plays in our lives, while also being a complex depiction of themes such as identity, individuality and the search for meaning in a world that has lost all logic, Futuro Futuro is a bold and enthralling film that may struggle to provide solutions for its myriad ideas, but is nonetheless worth the time to explore.

At a glance, it can be slightly challenging to understand exactly what Pretto is trying to say with Futuro Futuro, a film that is based around examining the mythology of modernity and the many contradictions that come with contemporary existence. There is a moment towards the beginning when one of the supporting players bluntly states, “nobody gets in, nobody gets out” – it’s not clear what he is referring to in this instance (and there are several potential interpretations), but this sentiment reflects the sense of entrapment and despair that the film attempts to communicate. Vital to its plot is the theme of technology, something normally perceived as a positive tool for liberating society from the shackles of the past – but in this case, artificial intelligence and technological innovation have become a weapon of oppression, a sinister entity that dictates the lives of ordinary people, establishing itself as irreplaceable in commanding the daily routines of its subjects. Pretto uses some disturbing imagery and a tense sense of time and place to explore what he sees as the ongoing threat (or perhaps inevitability is a more appropriate word) of machines becoming far too integral to the functioning of our daily lives. This is not a far-fetched work of science fiction, and it is less a case of speculation and more an instance of what the director observes as being a legitimate concern. In between these bold assertions, Pretto comments on subjects such as identity and individuality, both of which are used to anchor the film and give it an increased sense of complexity.

The narrative of Futuro Futuro is certainly captivating enough to catch our attention, but what truly draws us in and holds our focus is the form the film takes. In much the same way that we see subtle allusions to the work of Kafka and other similarly themed artists, the film also evokes the spirit of the classic New Hollywood paranoid thriller that dominated in the 1970s – dense, complex character studies about isolated individuals going up against a system far larger and more intimidating than they ever could have imagined, and either emerging victorious or simply getting swallowed by the scope of the shadowy organisations against which they wage a war. Both narratively and aesthetically Pretto is drawn to these elements, and the result is a visually striking piece that is as mysterious and aloof as the story being told. Filmed in various urban locations around Brazil, the film fixates on the unconventional beauty of the architecture, which is kept mostly intact, only slightly edited to give the illusion that we are situated in the near future, close enough to the present day to be recognisable, but also putting some distance between us to exude the sense of imminent societal collapse. It’s a film driven by its atmosphere more than anything else, with the entire narrative enshrouded in a series of mysteries that do not have any resolution, and instead exist to instil in the viewer a sense of existential dread. The director adds onto this some bespoke cultural details, filtering what is a relatively simple narrative through a regional lens. He refers to Brazilian culture in creative and provocative ways, indicating that he is focused on exploring this subject from both a local and universal perspective, leading to a layered, complex piece of filmmaking.

Futuro Futuro is a challenging and provocative film, and while its message can sometimes be slightly too ambiguous to be entirely effective – Pretto spends a lot of time introducing new narrative threads without really tying them together by the end – there are enough intriguing ideas to compensate for whatever shortcomings we come across in the process. Ultimately, the message being communicated is quite clear: we all tend to look towards the future as being a more prosperous time, when in reality it is likely to be bleaker and more harrowing than we could ever comprehend, especially as society shifts towards technology; it is steadily becoming less of a helpful tool to make life easier, and more a replacement for the human touch, which can in turn have detrimental effects if left unchecked. In this version of the world (which is clearly steeped in reality as the director perceives it), social cohesion is a rare commodity, which is not something we normally take into account when looking at the kinds of crises this film posits as catalysts for humanity’s downfall, but which does make sense when we realise such a collapse will always be accompanied by the kind of chaos demonstrated here. It’s not a particularly easy film to understand, and it does ultimately end up asking more questions than it manages to answer. But for the most part Futuro Futuro is a fascinating document, a piece of not-so-speculative fiction that imagines the likely scenario we could face if technology continues to develop without restriction, as well as depicting just how powerless we’ll be should we allow it to go on without regulation or acknowledging its terrifying and awe-inspiring might.