Domain (2016)Captivity is not a natural state of being for most animals--including humans--and often leads to a variety of disorders and other complications. Domain (2016) is a psychological thriller set against the backdrop of a catastrophic pandemic--called the "Sahara Flu"--which has ostensibly rendered most of the worlds population dead. Winners of a lottery are informed they will survive the outbreak by being quarantined within a hermetically sealed bunker buried thirty feet below the earth, waiting for the surface to return to safe levels. Five years have already passed, and the survivors in one sector of the "Domain" network are already suffering from the effects of an altogether different type of affliction: a claustrophobic kind of cabin fever.
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The main thrust of Domain is that while the looming threat of the lethal airborne virus is horrible, the confinement for the survivors is essentially incarceration. Their cells are glorified hamster cages, each uniform except that each member is allowed to keep a small token of their life from before, be it a photograph or a book. They are sustained by a literal feed tube, dispensing a powdered mix for a nutritive milkshake, and their sleep patterns are (generally) managed by day and night cycles, which affects the lighting and video screen near their bunks. In order to power the system, one member must periodically exercise to generate the electricity, which in turn allows them the means of social interaction via the Domain network--a limited access network not unlike Skype, where the survivors can see into one another's rooms and speak either in a "common area" or in private chats. The survivors rely solely on information fed to them by monitors to keep them informed about the conditions above the surface. The idea that the survivors were selected based on a lottery suggests a prize--in this case, it is their survival. Each of the seven people are distinct personality types, and are generally referred to by the city where their bunker is supposed to be housed, as opposed to their actual names. The implications of the outbreak are teased through media sound bites in the opening credits, letting the audience visualize in their imaginations what kind of horrors are befalling civilization. But down below, our introduction to the survivors is five years later, in the middle of a heated argument. It begins with the ostracizing of a rampant aggressor called Orlando (Kevin Sizemore), an exile reached by majority where the tech-savvy Denver (Ryan Merriman) "hacks" the system to prevent his feed from being accessible to the rest. Although most--including Orlando, oddly--favor this idea, some like Phoenix (Britt Lower) declare that it is an irreversible action, and it is not their place to execute. Phoenix's merciful attitude ultimately falls short of convincing the rest, but her rationale comes from a traumatic event in her past, which she shares with Denver, since the two have become romantically involved as a result of their private conversations through the Domain system. She tells him that she was once imprisoned for a violent crime, and that this has made her sympathetic to just how potentially damaging isolation can be and how important it is that the punishment be appropriate to the crime. She sees Orlando's removal as an abuse of power and excessive in light of the already tenuous social structure established via the system. After she presses Denver to try to bring him back--following a series of system glitches he theorizes might be related to his hack--the survivors on the network discover a shocking surprise which shatters their understanding of Domain: Orlando is gone.
The environment of Domain is filled with a kind of "retro-tech" vibe, evoking a style of science-fiction emergent from the late 1970s. Writer and director Nathaniel Atcheson cites Ridley Scott's Alien as a source of inspiration behind this aesthetic, which juxtaposes modern technology like video conferencing with vintage design, down to the oppressive orange of the computer fonts and uniforms worn by the survivors. Even Phoenix, who is the protagonist of Domain, is a surrogate for Ellen Ripley of Alien, a smart and sympathetic heroine who is also a survivor. It is evident that although the Domain system is designed to keep the survivors alive, it is also like a prison; even the video conferencing system is a way for the members to self-regulate and support a social dynamic where a dominant personality--like the self-appointed "leader", Boston (William Gregory Lee)--takes charge to discourage dissension. The Domain system also resembles a sociological experiment, and the suggestion that the administrators of Domain treat the survivors like guinea pigs recalls the popular video game, "Portal", since testing the reactions of the survivors in confinement strictly for testing purposes also a form of torture. Even Orlando's removal is the result of a measurable response, as is what happens to Houston (Nick Gomez) when his regulated lighting goes on the fritz, resulting in complete sleep deprivation, which in turn fosters a mental breakdown. The only host in this microcosm emerges from a prerecorded introductory video, a semi-corporate looking motherly figure named Nadine (Beth Grant), who sells the idea of Domain system as a perfect, self-contained sustainability matrix, imploring cooperation from the participants to ensure humanity's survival. But when these participants begin to peel away the proverbial paint of their long-term habitat after other elements begin to fail, that sense of security gives way to doubt.
The constant surveillance of the Domain system creates an atmosphere where privacy is a premium. The cinematography of the interpersonal moments between characters emphasizes this with invasive or intimate closeups of each person's face. The idea that each person is essentially a "online persona" of themselves means that the impressions each survivor has of one another is based largely on how they present themselves in this virtual realm, with the physical element being absent. Considering that prior to their quarantine, none of the seven knew one another, this creates a subconscious sensation that no matter the amount of time spent in one another's virtual company, deep down no one truly knows one another, and Domain plays up this pervading element of distrust. Even the presumably wholesome, God-fearing Atlanta (Sonja Sohn) may not be who she claims to be. The predominance of hexagonal shapes symbolizing the Domain network is key; it is a shape which is a "cell"--organic and artificial--one which also represents a symbol of strength when stacked together. This is meant to imply the stability and structure of the Domain system and the claim that nearly a half of a million survivors are secured and awaiting the end of the flu. It also represents the compartmentalization of these people, and the breakdown of their individuality in favor of turning them into a quantifiable value, like what the penal system is designed to do. Prisons are designed to be a form of punishment by virtue of the isolation and its psychological effects on convicts, as much as it is a way to remove--to quarantine--these virulent elements from society. Of course this begs the question as to whether the psychological effects are in violation of the Eighth Amendment, dealing with "cruel and unusual punishment". All of these ideas underscore the theme of isolation and subsequent feelings of paranoia and conspiracy that worm their way into the mind of the audience, subverting sympathies and raising questions about the delicate balance of freedom versus survival.
Recommended for: Fans of an insidiously clever science-fiction thriller which stokes an inherent distrust of authority and humanity's natural inclination to wither and lash out while under confinement. Domain offers many twists and turns which emerge from the audience's predisposition to come to conclusions based on limited information, only to have those expectations be upended.
The environment of Domain is filled with a kind of "retro-tech" vibe, evoking a style of science-fiction emergent from the late 1970s. Writer and director Nathaniel Atcheson cites Ridley Scott's Alien as a source of inspiration behind this aesthetic, which juxtaposes modern technology like video conferencing with vintage design, down to the oppressive orange of the computer fonts and uniforms worn by the survivors. Even Phoenix, who is the protagonist of Domain, is a surrogate for Ellen Ripley of Alien, a smart and sympathetic heroine who is also a survivor. It is evident that although the Domain system is designed to keep the survivors alive, it is also like a prison; even the video conferencing system is a way for the members to self-regulate and support a social dynamic where a dominant personality--like the self-appointed "leader", Boston (William Gregory Lee)--takes charge to discourage dissension. The Domain system also resembles a sociological experiment, and the suggestion that the administrators of Domain treat the survivors like guinea pigs recalls the popular video game, "Portal", since testing the reactions of the survivors in confinement strictly for testing purposes also a form of torture. Even Orlando's removal is the result of a measurable response, as is what happens to Houston (Nick Gomez) when his regulated lighting goes on the fritz, resulting in complete sleep deprivation, which in turn fosters a mental breakdown. The only host in this microcosm emerges from a prerecorded introductory video, a semi-corporate looking motherly figure named Nadine (Beth Grant), who sells the idea of Domain system as a perfect, self-contained sustainability matrix, imploring cooperation from the participants to ensure humanity's survival. But when these participants begin to peel away the proverbial paint of their long-term habitat after other elements begin to fail, that sense of security gives way to doubt.
The constant surveillance of the Domain system creates an atmosphere where privacy is a premium. The cinematography of the interpersonal moments between characters emphasizes this with invasive or intimate closeups of each person's face. The idea that each person is essentially a "online persona" of themselves means that the impressions each survivor has of one another is based largely on how they present themselves in this virtual realm, with the physical element being absent. Considering that prior to their quarantine, none of the seven knew one another, this creates a subconscious sensation that no matter the amount of time spent in one another's virtual company, deep down no one truly knows one another, and Domain plays up this pervading element of distrust. Even the presumably wholesome, God-fearing Atlanta (Sonja Sohn) may not be who she claims to be. The predominance of hexagonal shapes symbolizing the Domain network is key; it is a shape which is a "cell"--organic and artificial--one which also represents a symbol of strength when stacked together. This is meant to imply the stability and structure of the Domain system and the claim that nearly a half of a million survivors are secured and awaiting the end of the flu. It also represents the compartmentalization of these people, and the breakdown of their individuality in favor of turning them into a quantifiable value, like what the penal system is designed to do. Prisons are designed to be a form of punishment by virtue of the isolation and its psychological effects on convicts, as much as it is a way to remove--to quarantine--these virulent elements from society. Of course this begs the question as to whether the psychological effects are in violation of the Eighth Amendment, dealing with "cruel and unusual punishment". All of these ideas underscore the theme of isolation and subsequent feelings of paranoia and conspiracy that worm their way into the mind of the audience, subverting sympathies and raising questions about the delicate balance of freedom versus survival.
Recommended for: Fans of an insidiously clever science-fiction thriller which stokes an inherent distrust of authority and humanity's natural inclination to wither and lash out while under confinement. Domain offers many twists and turns which emerge from the audience's predisposition to come to conclusions based on limited information, only to have those expectations be upended.