MUTE. Skarsgård in a stunning-looking science fiction film

Before it premiered, I had been waiting for Mute  ever since the first enigmatic still from the film debuted online. First of all, the world depicted in the photo clearly suggested references to sci-fi classics, with Blade Runner at the forefront. Secondly, I had mostly seen Alexander Skarsgård deliver strong performances in supporting roles, so I was curious to see how he would handle the lead in a high-profile title. Duncan Jones’s latest work turned out to be everything I expected of it—but only to a very small extent…

On a visual level, Mute is indeed a truly Blade Runner-esque spectacle, with both beautiful and terrifying landscapes of a futuristic city (in this case, Berlin), and dark alleys lit only by neon lights. As in Scott’s cult classic, it seems to be perpetually nighttime, and evil and corruption ooze from every crevice of the city. But how much longer can we really get excited by flashy yet derivative and unoriginal visuals? Duncan Jones clearly invested a lot of time in building Mute’s futuristic world, but he’s not a visionary capable of crafting a fully original universe. What we see on screen is full of quotations and references, including nods to the aesthetics of noir cinema—because while Blade Runner was classified as neo-noir, Mute could serve as a textbook example of that very convention. There’s a suited protagonist (even with classic suspenders!), a dark cityscape, smoke, cigars, guns, and a woman at the center of Jones’s narrative. In truth, though, the genre dressing in Mute proves entirely unnecessary—the story is constructed in such a way that the futuristic setting has little to no bearing on its final shape.

Narratively, the film by the Moon director is at best banal—a mute bartender, who lost his voice in a childhood accident, searches for his beloved who suddenly disappeared under mysterious circumstances. During his investigation—tedious and underwhelming—he uncovers a few details about Naadirah’s (Seyneb Saleh) life, while also making some very dangerous enemies. Chief among them is Cactus Bill (a phenomenal Paul Rudd), a former soldier and surgeon in the service of local criminals, aiding in torture and other equally pleasant tasks. He turns out to be the key to solving the film’s central mystery, even though on the surface he has nothing to do with the mute bartender. The story in Jones’s film is not very engaging and lacks significant twists—neither the main character’s journey nor his relationship with the blue-haired Naadirah (a possible nod to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?) is particularly compelling. The most striking character is Cactus Bill himself—a mad, ruthless brute who will do anything to get what he wants. Paul Rudd, in a highly unusual role for him, outshines every other member of the relatively small cast, including Skarsgård. For Polish viewers, there’s also the curiosity of Andrzej Blumenfeld’s appearance as… a Russian thug (he even gets a few lines).

I’m not fond of the word “hollow” —it sounds awful and is definitely overused. But in this case, I’m inclined to use it, because it’s hard to find a better description of Duncan Jones’s film. Mute looks stunning, sounds great (Clint Mansell’s music!), is excellently (Rudd) or at least decently (Skarsgård) acted, but it suffers from what plagues many Netflix productions—mediocrity. Behind its beautiful visual facade, there’s no interesting substance to justify the creation of yet another visual clone of Blade Runner.