The images in Kim Tae-yong's Wonderland have a delicate texture. They look soft, almost dreamy. This buttery sensation is maintained by the film's pacing. There are smooth transitions from one scene to the next scene. Wonderland moves without jerks by eliminating clunky expositions that might bring down the gentle rhythms of the film. The characters never stop to explain what's going on in the story. The movie, instead, dispenses everything visually. Pay attention to the events, and you will understand what's happening. Tae-yong trusts his images to deliver expositions that might seem grating coming from a character's lips. Hence, Wonderland first shows you a digital world map and then introduces you to people who communicate with each other through mobile or other big screens. We slowly realize that the lovers or the family members the characters talk to through video calls are not alive. Their pictures, as well as their memories, have been transferred to an AI that processes this data and brings the deceased individuals "back to life." The characters basically talk to a digital avatar that looks and behaves like the person they love, who has now died.
The company that provides this service is called Wonderland. Who is the CEO? When was this company established? Does it have any competitors? Wonderland isn't interested in answering these questions. This science fiction drama doesn't bother filling holes - it leaves some of the things unexplained. For instance, is Sung-joon (Gong Yoo) a human or an AI? You eventually conclude that he is some sort of virtual assistant who ensures the proper functioning of the system. Does he only meet Bai Li (Tang Wei)? Has he ever spoken to other digital humans? Sung-joon falls in love with Bai Li. Take it as an indication that AI, too, can develop feelings like humans. If you create a human-like AI entity and feed it with memories of a human being, will it still be a machine? How do the Wonderland employees transfer the memories to their AI? They probably do so through the personal videos and photographs of the deceased customer. I don't think I grasped the exact process, and Wonderland anyway doesn't want you to focus on the complex process.
Tae-yong relies on the movie's emotions to do most of the work on screen. The melancholic mood imbues all the relationships with a sense of fragility. The actors are confined to a limited range of emotions - they are mostly teary-eyed. These sentimental figures always look vulnerable, so unsurprisingly, they experience great pain as the movie heads toward the finish line. Jeong-in (Bae Suzy) gets so used to the good-mannered, predictable AI version of her boyfriend (Park Bo-gum) that she finds the real one's unpredictability (he brings some people into their home) too much to handle (doesn't this woman have any friends at her workplace or somewhere else with whom she can discuss her feelings? Does she have trouble making friends?). She likes how the AI wishes her in the morning and takes care of her by reminding her about eye drops and vitamin pills. Bai Li's daughter learns some hard truths, and Bai Li, too, soon understands the reality of her situation because characters on both sides of the screen undergo heavy realization. Wonderland doesn't have great, original ideas, but it's wonderful to look at. Tae-yong tries to leave us with a bittersweet sentiment, which comes in the way of creating memorable characters or events. The mood it conjures remains with you even after the movie's end. Everything else, or at least most of the things, however, dissipate from your head.
Final Score- [5.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
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Publisher at Midgard Times