The new Space Jam is apocalyptic horror

 

On Monday night, I sat in a dark cinema, staring up at the screen, pondering an unanswerable question: What does Hollywood consider a "algorithm" to be?

An algorithm, by definition, directs a computer to perform a series of operations (often in code) in order to solve a problem — such as calculating a number, displaying information based on data it has collected about you, determining the answer to a question you've asked, or some other much more complex sequence. It's a small black box into which you enter a set of criteria and, voila, a solution appears.

However, Hollywood appears to have a much stranger and magical view of algorithms. It's no surprise, given that movies and computers have never really gotten along — just look at any pre-2001 film about hackers or the long-running stereotype of technologically implausible "computer, enhance" commands. Computers and code are squished into nebulous, impossible dreams that bear little similarity to reality as they pass through the screenwriter's filter.

In 2021, “algorithms” are the latest unknown force to wreak havoc on our lives, attracting screenwriters in the same way that mainframes and “the internet” previously did. Algorithms are increasingly being used as important aspects of stories.some more plausible than others.

In 2018’s Ralph Breaks the Internet, a character named Yesss (voiced by Taraji P. Henson) is the “head algorithm” at a video-sharing website called BuzzzTube (you get it). In that universe, her main task is to spot trends and create them — something that is partly accomplished algorithmically in the real world, though with significantly less emotional intelligence than Yesss displays.

In 2020’s Tenet, the “algorithm” is a weird cylindrical gewgaw created by a scientist to ... well, I won’t spoil it, except to say that it involves messing with physics, and it is not exactly what I think of when I think of an algorithm. (Then again, I’m not a scientist from the future.)

And now in Space Jam: A New Legacy — the movie that provoked my Monday-night musings — an algorithm pops up yet again. As in Ralph Breaks the Internet, it takes the form of a character with the hokey name of Al G. Rhythm, played with tremendous and admirable vim by Don Cheadle.

Al G. is the film's antagonist, an artificial intelligence — which is slightly different from an algorithm in real life — who is fed up with being dismissed and disregarded by Warner Bros. officials. (Warner Bros. is the studio behind Space Jam: A New Legacy, and the film wants you to remember that.) Al, who runs a "serververse" named Warner 3000, is plotting to take over the entire firm, which his human colleagues (played by Sarah Silverman and Steven Yeun) are willing to hand over to him if his ideas prove profitable.

NBA great LeBron James (playing himself) and his kid Dom (played by Cedric Joe) are thrust into this bizarre circumstance. (A point of order: While real-life LeBron James has a wife and three children, the members of Space Jam: A New Legacy's James family, none of whom share his real-life family's names, are played by actors.) Despite the fact that Dom, who appears to be a genius, is far more interested in coding and making video games, LeBron is adamant about his sons working hard on their basketball fundamentals.

LeBron and Dom are on the Warner Bros. backlot one day for a meeting with studio executives and, via screen, Al G., who wants to use LeBron's digital likeness in a variety of Warner Bros. titles. (This line appears to have been plucked from the season two episode of 30 Rock titled "SeinfeldVision," or more sinisterly from the 2013 film The Congress, or even more sinisterly from our dreadful future.) Al G.'s strategy for finally gaining the attention he deserves from Warner Bros. is to boost the company's back library with appearances from the basketball star. LeBron James is uninterested.

However, through a series of unfortunate events not really worth recounting, LeBron and Dom get sucked into Al G.’s serververse and from thence into Warner 3000, which is sort of like a universe — one might say a cinematic universe, eh — populated by little planets on which the various properties owned by Warner Bros. live. There’s Harry Potter! There’s Austin Powers! There’s Wonder Woman! The gang’s all here.

Space Jam: A New Legacy is still a sequel to Michael Jordan's original Space Jam, so you can bet it'll involve Bugs Bunny and the world's best basketball player facing off against bad villains in a game of hoops. The game is set up by Al G., who is able to engage Dom in his master scheme, and the stakes are high: If the Tune Squad (LeBron and the Looney Tunes) triumphs, they will be able to depart Warner 3000 and return home. If they lose, everyone watching the game — including LeBron's social media admirers who are watching the livestream — will be drawn into Al G.'s algorithm-driven universe for the rest of their life.

Little of what Al G. does in Space Jam: A New Legacy really has anything to do with algorithms. But if you want to try to cram him into that mold, the problem, from Al G.’s algorithmic perspective, is that not enough people are trapped in Warner Bros.’ vast catalog of intellectual property (IP) on a continual basis. The solution is to make sure they never get out. His job is to figure out how best to hold them captive.

So if audiences feel trapped while watching the nearly two-hour movie, well, maybe that’s on purpose. To be fair, it’s not all unpleasant. The joyride through the Warner Bros. IP universe is not quite as soul-busting as the trailer led me to believe it would be, though I suspect it benefited only in comparison to my expectations. LeBron James is a decent actor, and definitely gives a better performance than Michael Jordan did in the original movie 25 years ago. Cheadle, who would have been more than justified in phoning it in, is instead gnawing on the scenery. There is exactly one very funny joke.

Space Jam: A New Legacy, on the other hand, is an unusually clueless film, the kind of studio production that looks half-aware that it's criticising an issue that its own existence embodies. That's the ever-spooky "algorithm" in this situation. Years of half-joking, half-concern about algorithms spying on us and tailoring our online experiences and consumption habits to our preferences — on Netflix, Facebook, TikTok, and everywhere else — have now erupted in our collective subconscious (a.k.a. pop culture). We're becoming increasingly aware that our decisions are being affected by algorithms rather than just supplying data to them, which makes us uncomfortable. I recently joined the TikTok horde and was disappointed by how rapidly the app grew in popularity. the app learned exactly what I wanted to see (workout videos, hacks for cleaning my shower) and what I definitely didn’t want to see (couples doing cute dances in sync, because I’m a grinch).

I’m aware that TikTok wants to make me buy stuff, just like Instagram does; it feels sentient, even if it’s “just” an algorithm doing its thing. I’m even more aware that algorithms are a big part of radicalizing people toward extremism. That makes them kind of scary