In the late ’80s, there were a few instances of broadcast signal intrusion, in which video pirates hijacked the broadcast signals with a series of bizarre videos. It was considered a federal crime. The 1986 Captain Midnight intrusion targeted HBO and eventually led to an arrest and prosecution. 1987 saw Chicago’s news on WGN and Doctor Who on the PBS affiliate taken over with videos of someone wearing a Max Headroom mask with strangely distorted ranting over eerie feedback sounds. This latter, unsolved case serves as the basis for Jacob Gentry’s creepy tech-noir conspiracy thriller. Broadcast Signal Intrusion wears its cinematic influences on its sleeves, delivering a heavily stylized mystery that rings hollow.
Set in Chicago in 1999, video archivist James (Harry Shum Jr.) picks up odd tech jobs on the side while spending his evenings logging decades-old TV broadcasts. James occasionally breaks up his monotonous routine with grief support group meetings to help him cope with a loss that still haunts his dreams. Then James discovers a surreal and disturbing clip on one of the tapes he believes to be caused by a broadcast signal intrusion. Finding another just like it sends him down a rabbit-hole of dark conspiracy and obsession.
Gentry strikes a disconcerting tone straight away with a nightmare opening that establishes James’ emotional investment in his forthcoming rabbit-hole. A happy memory becomes nightmarish as unsettling music cues something is amiss, the fog rolls in, and a woman’s face turn plastic and eyeless. When the broadcast signal intrusion videos show a very similar type of white-plastic masked face, the seeds of obsession are sowed on the spot. James’ drive to solve the mystery behind the hijacked signal proves undeterred, no matter how weird or dangerous it gets. Following along, however, isn’t always so easy.
Broadcast boasts a very specific and intriguing concept, bolstered by immaculate style. Gentry is paying homage to Brian de Palma’s works, most noticeably in ample use of split diopter shots. The cinematography is slick, and the sickly yellow, green, and blue color palette lends well to the eeriness of James’ quest.
But beneath the glossy exterior lies some very familiar bones of a standard noir thriller, right down to the dark trumpet heavy jazz. James is a hard-boiled amateur sleuth whose tech expertise gives him the tools necessary to find all the clues. He meets potential red herrings and femme fatales along the way, all conveniently corralling him in the right direction despite raising interest. Instead of a tricky web of riddles and lies, Broadcast takes its jaded lead down a linear, guided path, no matter how hard it tries to obscure it with vague plot threads or disorienting time jumps.
Despite Shum Jr. committing fully to the stoic, hardened by grief James, there’s not much to his character. The narrative never really uses his grief in any meaningful way besides a contrivance to fuel his obsession. Potential ally Alice (Kelley Mack) infuses some much-needed energy, but her character also lacks depth beyond her narrative purpose. All of which to say, this is a feature driven by its mystery, not its characters. The downside to this is that the story loses steam as it progresses. Worse, the anticlimactic ending falls flat and robs so much potential.
The scope and style keep things engaging up to a certain point. So, too, does the total commitment to its weird concept and its nightmarish android imagery. But it’s too opaque and superficial to sustain the overarching narrative, further hindered by archetypical characters. With stunning production design, there’s a lot to like about this peculiar tech-noir thriller, a technical marvel. The dissipating energy levels and excessive restraint, however, ultimately disappoints.
