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Hard on the heels of The Substance comes another film about a dodgy Los Angeles experimental clinic and showbiz obsession – only this medical outfit, Somnium, is a shonky mind-fixing operation à la Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Wannabe actor Gemma (Chloë Levine) lands a “sleep-sitting” job at the firm, watching over patients in pods who are hoping to improve their lives by having helpful dreams injected into their subconsciouses. Already working the audition circuit hard, she doesn’t appear to need that kind of assistance – but flashbacks to the idyllic relationship she ditched in Georgia hint at a festering inner wound.
Appealing though its crisp sci-fi premise makes it, Racheal Cain’s debut feature nonetheless feels as if it has been directly imprinted with far too many secondhand pop-cultural memories: some decaying Eternal Sunshine relationship detritus here, a mysterious producer svengali (Johnathon Schaech) and a transformative audition-room scene straight from Mulholland Drive over there. Even one of the key performances feels derivative: Will Peltz as Noah, Gemma’s creepy, aviator-specs colleague, xeroxes Cillian Murphy’s supercilious distaste.
All these elements feel like cartoonish reductions; apart from the vague umbrella-label of dreams, none feel as if they are heading anywhere purposeful. The Hollywood and Somnium plotlines are finally forced into a room together, as Noah lures Gemma into a therapy pod for reasons as fathomable as the troglodyte lurker she glimpses everywhere. But even her mind seems intent on selling her character short: humiliation-by-chatshow feels like a horribly off-the-peg fantasy (the 2020 film Come True is far more memorable and flamboyant as far as low-budget dreamscapes go).
Levine is consistently deft in conveying Gemma’s peppy desperation; if only Cain didn’t display a similar lack of confidence in staking out her own territory for the film. It may think it is tilting at the dream factory, but Somnium simply feels tired.
