Upgrade

Lovers of high-concept, b-movie sci-fi cinema would have been perfectly content were Upgrade not much more than a narratively streamlined, giddily hyper-violent vigilante revenge fantasy, sort of a Death Wish: Cyberpunk Edition. However, Upgrade is also sophisticated enough to leave the audience with some intriguing questions about how much power we can give artificial intelligence before it decides that we’re a nuisance, taking full control. Of course, the premise of AI as existential threat is the bedrock for plenty of science fiction, with the most recent example in Alex Garland’s great Ex Machina. With Upgrade, we get a Cliff’s Notes version of this concept, examined in an understandably superficial but original way, and we get to watch a bad guy’s head split in half. That’s the textbook definition of a win-win.
Upgrade begins as paint-by-numbers revenge flick. Our happy family man but soon-to-be vigilante this time around is the technophobic (every sci-fi action flick centered on cybernetics is contractually obligated to have a protagonist who hates such technology) vintage car builder Grey (Logan Marshall-Green), who’s happily married to textbook Vigilante Fantasy Female Asha (Melanie Vallejo). Of course: A group of mysterious thugs brutally murders Asha before you reach for your second handful of popcorn. Grey, who’s left quadriplegic after the attack, simply wants to kill himself.
This covers around the first 40 minutes of the movie, which might make adrenaline junkies a bit restless while watching what seems to be a drama about one man’s struggle to fight depression after a horrible tragedy. Writer/director Leigh Whannell has proven to be an efficient genre storyteller, having been the Bernie Taupin to James Wan’s Elton John, writing for Wan’s Saw and Insidious franchises, even directing the third Insidious. With Upgrade, he confirms he’s a formidable voice in modern b-movies. He knows that a vigilante revenge flick has to front-load character exposition before indulging in non-stop action during its second half. That is, if the filmmaker gives two shits whether or not the audience can relate to a three-dimensional protagonist.