Montreal Nouveau 2023 Review: MARS EXPRESS, A Noir Mystery and a Posthuman Philosophical Journey

Why do we always assume that it is the robots who will be a danger to us? You could argue it's a fair assumption, as they will likely be physically stronger, and perhaps with brains able to make calculations and decisions at a far faster rate than the human brain. And yet, humans have had a tendency through history to fear the unknown -- not just to fear it, but to hate it. And we know what we do to that which we hate, and over which we have power.

French animator Jérémie Périn knows; his feature film debut Mars Express presents a world of humans and robots -- well, not just robots in a strict sense, but augmented humans as well, blurring the lines between what is organic and what is mechanical. It's a noir sci-fi thriller that features both a complex mystery and a deeper philosophical exploration of what it means to be alive, or more to the point, to be aware of being alive.

Far in the future, Mars has long been made fit for human life, and is colonized, with both humans and robots. But these robots are becoming sentient, with hackers giving them the gift of consciousness. Already under threat by humans resentful of the jobs lost to robot animation, this makes them a target not only from officials, but any human with any resentment. Aline Ruby (Léa Drucker), after an unsuccessful attempt to bring a hacker to justice, is set to investigate the disappearance of a cybernetics student. She does so with the help of Carlos (Daniel Njo Lobé), her partner, whose body was destroyed, but whose consciouness was placed in a robotic body, leaving him in a posthuman space between organic and mechanical, a somewhat more relatable robocop.

Aline is dealing with alcoholism in a life that has become hyperfocused on a job she increasingly hates; Carlos' wife left him, taking their child, and his constant anger is his only companion besides Aline. Both find themselves diving deeper into this investigation, finding a conspiracy on one side to rid human society of all robots, and on the other, a group trying to liberate all cybernetic consciousness to have them form their own society.

In a world where access to everything is immediate and manipulatable (there are literal brain farms where students can 'rent out' their knowledge in exchange for much-needed cash), it's not easy to find meaning. As Aline dives deeper into the student's disappearance, and the reasons behind it, she finds her sobriety (which is literally programmed under her skin) hard to maintain. Likewise, Carlos is rejected by everyone around him; with his anger in this robot body, he is able to enact great violence, yet he also seems to long for a 'real' death.

Périn gives us a world of cyber noir -- dark hallways, dank alleys, mysterious and untrustworthy character, secret plots -- but there is so much more at stake. His animation style has a liquid feel to it at times: blood drips off the camera lens, tears can almost be felt as they run down cheeks. It's also often metallic, but rather than being cold, there is a palpable heat radiating, as if to make us understand that what we think of as 'alive' is so much more than flesh and blood. There are influences of anime, but this feels as Périn trying to take not only animation, but the sci-fi narrative, is a different direction, a contemporary sensibility that sees how the mechanical and organic are mixing together into the posthuman.

Mars Express at once feels rich in its design, and complex in its stories, but at its heart it's asking the question that most works of art ask: what does it mean to be human? In a world increasingly overrrun by technology that forces us to rethink that question, this film utilizes its tools to expand our thoughts, and horizons, for what this new future means.