Directing: B
Acting: B
Writing: B
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+

Mahershala Ali is an actor of such caliber, I can’t imagine anyone minding the idea of getting two of him in one movie. In the case of Swan Song, that is meant in a more literal sense than usual: his character, Cameron, is literally cloned, and we see many conversations between the two of them. Cameron is terminally ill, you see, and in a near future in which new technology allows for it, he is being entirely “regenerated,” his duplicate given all the same memories, so that he can be replaced with a healthier version of himself, his wife and son being none the wiser.

“Duplicate” is the word more frequently used in his movie, as opposed to “clone.” There are no discussions of “nature vs. nurture” here, as the duplicate Cameron—given the name “Jack” for the duration of their coexistence—has the memory of all the same experiences. This is often discussed when considering cloning, the way experiences shape an entirely different person. Is cloning a new person at the exact same age even possible? Will it ever be? I have my doubts, and writer-director Benjamin Cleary, in his feature film debut, never truly directly addresses that question, except to say that, in the world of Swan Song, it is indeed possible. He’s more interested in what the experience looks like in the case of it being possible, and to a much lesser degree, the ethical implications.

I’m not going to lie, I thought about what it would be like for me to be in this position, locked away with another version of myself in a secluded bunker outside Vancouver, B.C. with a medical and psychological staff of three, and AI systems that “do the work of fifty people.” I mean, let’s get real: I’d immediately want to fuck myself. On the other hand, I thought about even this idea maybe more realistically than I ever have before, and especially in regards to a duplicate of me at exactly the same age (as opposed to, say, a version of myself ten years younger), and I’d probably get right sick of myself after a week. Maybe less.

I suspect, actually, that it’s considerations like this that prompt Cleary to write Cameron as a deeply decent, loving, family man. What about people like me who, sure, would not want to devastate my spouse but am also very selfish? Making a movie like this about such people might be more realistic, but it’s maybe not as compelling.

It does make Cameron kind of dull as a character, though. Swan Song is a very meditative look at a hypothetical situation only possible in the context of vague science fiction, the kind that includes no real science because we aren’t actually that close to something like this really being possible. At least not in the “near future,” one in which, by the way, nature is beautiful and serene and somehow not being wrought by devastation. These narrative limitations are no doubt informed also by Benjamin Clearly not being a scientist himself. He’s just a film director with an interesting idea.

Don’t get me wrong, though; Swan Song is compelling throughout, in spite of these limitations. Clearly strips away complications in his characters to give them space to process the extraordinary nature of their circumstances. It helps that it features a stellar cast, in addition to Mahershala Ali: Naomie Harris as his wife, Poppy; Glenn Close as the benevolent Dr. Jo Scott; Awkwafina as Kate, another terminally ill patient at the facility whose duplicate has already been fully integrated into her family. Where the writing of their characters lack dimension, their performances add it.

If nothing else, Cleary succeeds at establishing and maintaining a tone, in this case contemplative and somber. It feels appropriate for both the subject matter, and for the lush forest landscapes around the secluded medical facility where the “duplication” work occurrs—Cameron being apparently only the third time it’s been done. There’s a lot that Clearly doesn’t bother examining, such as how much this costs or how Cameron can afford it, his clearly well-paying job notwithstanding. Dr. Scott only ever behaves as though she exists to offer ways to save families from the anguish of untimely loss. But, surely she’s profiting from this?

One might say that I am overthinking all of this, and for what appear to be Benjamin Cleary’s purposes here, I can’t deny it’s a valid argument. If you just want to lose yourself in the somber notes of this film with beautiful landscapes and skilled editing, it should work quite well for you. It did work for me, really; I liked the movie, in spite of its many questions that Cleary doesn’t bother to answer. It doesn’t even feel pointed, but rather almost as though he feels they are beside the point. Maybe they are.

It’s what that point is, precisely, where I struggle a little. But, I can also let it go, and enjoy the film for what it is, and leave thinking about how I might approach the same kind of opportunity. If the “duplicate” is functionally exactly the same person, indistinguishable from the original by anyone around him, with no memory even of having been duplicated (another key plot point), then what difference does it make? Why not?

*Mahershala Ali externalizes his internal struggles.*

Overall: B