THE POD GENERATION - Mark Reviews Movies

The Pod Generation, Vertical

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Review by Mark Dujsik | August 10, 2023

Set at some point near the end of the current century, The Pod Generation is a satire that already feels slightly dated. Beyond its occasional reliance on modern trends—that seem more like recent than current ones since the time the movie was written and made—for its world-building and humor, though, writer/director Sophie Barthes' futuristic story of pregnancy and parenthood barely feels as if it's scratching the surface of its potential.

It's some year in the second half of the 21st century, and the world has become a very artificial and privatized place. On the one hand, this vision, in which a single company appears to control most aspects of life and commerce, feels frighteningly accurate, even if the movie accepts the notion as fact, barely treats it as a joke, and definitely doesn't find any meaningful way to criticize it.

On the other, the very idea that modern civilization still exists with only a minimal concern for the natural world comes across as naïvely optimistic and inconsistent. That's especially true of this particular setting, an anonymous metropolis where plants are placed in packs to provide occasional oxygen boosts to people and foliage adorns a single wall in a high-rise apartment. Despite this basic understanding of the necessity of nature, though, most plant life has been replicated by way of holograms for aesthetic purposes.

None of this would really matter, except for the fact that one of our main characters is a proponent of the natural way of things, drawing attention to the design and function of this world. He's Alvy (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a botanist who teaches at a local university, where students seem downright ignorant and fearful of nature.

Meanwhile, his wife Rachel (Emilia Clarke), who works marketing artificially intelligent assistants for the monopolistic conglomerate at the center of this world, wants to sell the summer home the couple has in a small, out-of-the-way town since the two never go there. Alvy points out that's because she never wants to leave the city, but why would she, Rachel counters, when there are those "nature pods" to, apparently, make the act of breathing possible?

Thankfully, little of these basic details matter to the plot, even if they are a distraction—in the same way the movie's aggressively creepy digital assistants (including one that's basically a floating eye) and apparent belief that digital tokens of art will be enough to maintain an economy really make us wonder how much consideration Barthes put into her future world. The central gimmick here involves artificial pregnancy, which allows women to pay to have a company essentially incubate a human embryo, to a fetus, to a baby in a plastic egg-shaped pod. It lets potential parents, especially expectant mothers, continue with life without the hassles of natural pregnancy.

It's a decent-enough concept, although Barthes' insistence on revolving the narrative around those invented details of the future instead of the characters means there's not enough focus on either the conceit or the characters' experience with it. Alvy quickly becomes a doting father-to-be, leaving Rachel feeling like a lesser mother-to-be because she's still working. The two try to find a balance with the help of the assorted amenities available to them, such an AI therapist and a handy phone app that lets the soon-to-be parents know when the fetus needs to be "fed," but something is still seems missing from their lives and the experience to them.

Both Clarke and Ejiofor bring an amusingly relatable sense of anxiety to their performances, with the latter also serving as the only sign of existential dread about the state of the world at this moment in time and society. Most of the complications, though, arise out of nowhere, as the company that runs the so-called "Womb Center" throw obstacles at the couple from the fine print of their contract. That the whole plot comes across as if Barthes is making things up as she goes along is at least consistent with the way this world is envisioned.

It also, though, means there's a decidedly sinister air to the process and the larger company that runs it—a notion that the movie come close to dealing with directly, only for the story to come to a sudden end just when our main characters would have to confront it. The Pod Generation is more a string of half-baked ideas, cobbled together to create an unconvincing view of the future, than it is even a half-developed story.

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