'Surge' With Ben Whishaw Is An Unempathetic, Exploitative Freakshow About Mental Health [Review]

When “Surge” debuted at Sundance in January (a full nine months before its release) the Ben Whishaw-starring thriller seemed like a surefire success—a modern-day “Taxi Driver” or realistic “Joker.” But this week, the film has been dumped on VOD with a little advertisement, promotion, or reviews. With such an appealing star, genre, and set-up, how can this be?

Well, maybe because the filmmakers—director Aneil Karia, writers Rupert Jones and Rita Kalnejais—have completely botched the premise. After an hour of watching a mental breakdown, we discover that “Surge” isn’t a thriller at all, but a mental health study, and an incredibly offensive one at that.

That’s not the fault of Whishaw, who gives us a character who’s far more nuanced than what’s been written. His Joseph is a bland TSA agent, patting down passengers whenever his metal detector beeps and never, ever finding anything of substance. He goes through the motions like a Rumba vacuuming your floor, though his twitchy fingers, troubled expressions, compulsive desires, and odd obsessions suggest there’s more to Joseph than he initially lets on.

Anyone who has a sibling or friend with autism, or has spent time volunteering in the special needs community, will immediately be able to diagnose Joseph. He’s autistic with a touch of OCD, possibly even schizophrenic if you consider his social isolation serious. After work, he comes home to an empty apartment. He sometimes eats with his parents (Ella Haddington, Ian Gelder), though hardly a word is spoken. And his co-workers don’t even know who he is.

In fact, the entire first act is devoted to establishing Joseph as a sad, lonely, mentally unstable man on the verge of a breakdown. Not only is he flustered (car doors won’t open, parents won’t listen), but the camera shakes and disorients as if to say, “Hey, look! This guy is starting to lose it!” It’s only a matter of time before he snaps, a neurological diagnosis that is short-sided when you stop to think about the implications.

Movies have a way of pinning disadvantaged characters in a corner, kicking them while they’re down, and assuming they will respond violently (“Joker,” “Fight Club”), when in reality most of them are just like me and you. When your car doesn’t open, or your neighbors make too much noise, do you start robbing banks because you’re a tad bit flummoxed? No? Then why should Joseph?

For all of Whishaw’s crazed, unhinged energy, “Surge” doesn’t contain any empathy or lesson. Perhaps a monologue about mental health or a message on how mental health patients should be treated with care would have made Joseph’s arc more tolerable. Instead, there’s simply no meaning—it’s all just an exploitative freak show that treats a special needs character like shit and then watches him spontaneously combust in ways that are supposed to be heroic.

Some audience members may very well be looking for this brand of heroism (“Joker” fans, I suppose), but most will find it grating. There’s nothing edifying or satisfying about Joseph’s crime spree, and unless the spree is sparked by revenge, love, or politics (ala “Taxi Driver“), then there’s really no point at all. “Surge” takes pointlessness to a whole ‘nother level: cruel, empty, airless; a glass storefront with nothing to see inside. [D]