Technology and “The Effect of Magnification”
Actor-filmmaker Benjamin Dickinson discusses the self-interest and satirization of Creative Control

People love their technology, but does their technology love them back? In Creative Control, the sophomore feature by filmmaker, writer and actor Benjamin Dickinson, the answer to that question is positively fraught and depends entirely on your perspective. Sure, your technology lets you maintain potentially uninterrupted contact with your loved ones—your friends, your family, your significant other—but as it grows cooler and more sophisticated, so too does it keep you isolated from them. Before you know it, you’re ignoring your girlfriend’s text message salvos and taking carnal solace in the unfailingly obedient simulacrum you’ve created as your pixelated fuck buddy.
That schism between reality and reality as filtered through technology is what Creative Control is all about. The film focuses on David (Dickinson himself), the overstressed and narcissistic creative director of an advertising agency who tries to whip up a campaign for an “augmented reality” gadget called Augmenta. (Think Google Glass on steroids.) David tosses back pills like they’re Skittles, dances around genuine intimacy with his girlfriend, Juliette (Nora Zehetner), parties with his obnoxious photographer friend Wim (Dan Gill, plus his mustache), and indulges in VR fantasies about Wim’s bonnie lass, Sophie (Alexia Rasmussen), that quickly overwhelm the line separating the physical from the digital. Things get rapidly uncomfortable from there.
Consider Creative Control as the bitter, cynical cousin to Her, a movie with a similarly uncomfortable narrative that is better defined as melancholy and sweet rather than wary and contemptuous. It helps that the film is presented in crisp, gelid monochrome, which not only looks gorgeous but also supplies a visual simplicity that belies the complexity of Dickinson’s themes and ideas. There’s a lot going on in Creative Control, as Paste learned firsthand in an interview with Dickinson, who spoke not only of his inspiration for the movie, but also the dueling nature of technology as a source of enlightenment and ignorance, and why it might be a good thing that the Internet so often seems to bring out the worst in us.
Paste: There’s so much in the movie to talk about that I don’t really know where to start…
Benjamin Dickinson: You know what? Let’s just find it! Let’s make the road by walking.
Paste: Let’s do it! If I may, I’d like to start off with a quote—I don’t know if you’re familiar with Alvin Toffler?
Dickinson: Toffler?
Paste: He wrote a book back in 1980 called The Third Wave, which is about the shift from the Industrial Age to the Information Age…
Dickinson: I love this already.
Paste: I figured you would! That’s why I wanted to start with this. He wrote, “Any decent society must generate a feeling of community. Community offsets loneliness. It gives people a vitally necessary sense of belonging. Yet today the institutions on which community depends are crumbling in all the techno-societies. The result is a spreading plague of loneliness.” This rolled around in my head a lot while I was watching the movie, and I wanted to talk to you about the way that technology divides the characters of your film and separates them rather than bring them together.
Dickinson: Yes.
Paste: Is that what was going on in your mind when you were making this, or did that spring out of other themes that you wanted to explore? Because the movie does have quite a few different themes.
Dickinson: It began with a personal anxiety, not a philosophical conceit. In brief—I don’t want to go into it too deeply—but in brief, I went through a bad breakup, and much of that breakup was negotiated over text message, which was a new experience, because this was in 2011, 2012, and smartphones had only been around for three, four years at this point. So, you know, if you were going through a breakup in 2005, the chances of it being a very long text conversation on an iPhone were impossible. That was very strange, that experience, and alienating, and around that time I also quit Facebook, because Facebook was telling me things I didn’t want to know about, and it became evident that Facebook didn’t care about my feelings. It just saw me as a series of behaviors, and the algorithms saw me as behavior, not as a complete person that has emotions, and it knew what I would be interested in but it didn’t know why. It didn’t know that I’d be interested in seeing certain photos because it caused me pain. It didn’t see the pain. It just saw interest.
So, my concern is, as we’re building a technological society, are we concerned that the technology serves us as human mammals that have complicated emotions, have social needs, have the need to be touched, and have spiritual needs as well? Is that being considered when we’re writing software, when we form our financial institutions, when we set up our industries, and as we make our devices? Are we considering the needs of the whole human being, or are we just looking at human beings as consumers that are going to make our corporations wealthy? Are we looking at people as numbers and behaviors rather than poets, musicians, lovers, priests, dancers, friends … all the stuff that makes life worth living, all the stuff that’s good, which is connection, and good food, and music, and family, that’s what makes human life good. That’s what makes human life a joy and a celebration.
Our behaviors that can be analyzed by algorithms, the robot aspect of our nature is important, very important, but it’s only a small piece of what it’s like to be a human. And I guess some people might say that the best-case scenario for consciousness would be for us to remove our consciousness from the meat sack, to extract it from its biological origin and put it into a metal box, but I don’t know if I agree, and I don’t know if it’s possible. I don’t know if you can extract human consciousness. I think consciousness must exist outside of bodies—it seems like it must—but I don’t know if that is a human consciousness. So I think there’s a paradox there.
Paste: So this started at a really personal place for you, and expanded into something that’s cultural, that we can all tag into. I guess where I would want to go with that—first, I agree. Technology can’t serve the whole of the human. But in the movie, it seems like the technology serves, honestly, the worst tendencies of the human. It facilitates so much bad behavior in David, and in Wim. David tries to have an affair with Sophie; Wim just sends sex pics to David all the time. Is that the other concern? Not just that it won’t serve the whole, but that it will also serve, augment if you will, the bad parts, the bad tendencies of humanity?
Dickinson: I think there’s Davids everywhere right now, particularly in our current political situation. The Internet, and technology in general, seems to have the effect of magnification. So I think it’s magnifying, augmenting, both the good and the bad, both the better angels and the demons of our nature. So I think everything’s becoming more extreme on both sides, and it’s a concern. I think it depends on how you look at it. From a certain point of view, you could say, “What an opportunity!” Because if the technology is magnifying the worst parts of humanity, then it makes it easier to see. Do you know what I mean?